


You're Not You

by beautifuloblivion



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: AU - Memory Loss, M/M, Mavin, Memory Loss, eventually, now with sex!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-23 09:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifuloblivion/pseuds/beautifuloblivion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A man comes to on the floor of a shabby apartment. His head is glued to the floor with his own blood. And he has no idea where, or who, he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was largely inspired by an Alex Bell book, The Ninth Circle, so hopefully I don't get sued by him... First fic on this site so be nice please c:

Pain. Darkness and pain.   
  
Sharp tendrils jabbed their way into his brain and drew a soft groan out of his mouth. He shifted slightly on the hard surface before opening his eyes to reveal that yes, in fact, he was lying on his stomach on a tiled floor. The harsh light coming from some unknown source - probably the window - stabbed at his eyes and he shut them again, hissing.   
  
 _Must have had a rough night last night,_ was the first thing that came to his mind. He tried to extend his memory back to recall the night before, expecting images of throwing back shot after shot until he couldn't see straight. But there was nothing.   
  
Alarm shot through him; had he been drugged? Kidnapped? His eyes shot open and in a panic he flew to his hands and knees, expecting to find his wrists and ankles tied. However, his limbs were free and the act of getting up so fast sent a shock of pain through his skull. He grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut until the pain subsided a little, then finally tried to get a good look at the room he was in.   
  
Staring him in the face was a rather large puddle of blood, and his eyes widened. Whose blood had he been lying in? It occurred to him that any number of things could have happened the night before, but he couldn't worry about that until he figured out where he _was_. He raised his head to avoid looking at the blood and took in his surroundings.  
  
It was a simple bathroom, with stark white flooring. He was in the middle of the small room, a sink and toilet in front of him and a shower to his right. There was no windows, and the light he previously thought was coming from a window actually came from a fixture above the mirror, which hung atop the sink. He guessed the door was behind him, but he wasn't too confident that he wouldn't throw up if he turned to check.   
  
Again, he tried to remember what he was doing here. Whose house was he in? He didn't recognize anything in the room so he figured it wasn't his own, but who else? And as he kneeled there on that cold bathroom floor, he found he could not remember a single thing. About anything. No one he knew, no friends, no family, not a single event from his past.   
  
Growing desperate, he tried to recall a birthdate; a place of birth; a home town; a home _country_? Where had he come from? What language was he thinking in? He opened his mouth, tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled sort of whine. He cleared his throat and tried again.   
  
"Where the fuck am I." American. Okay, so he knew where he was born. Or at least raised.   
  
What about a name? To his alarm, he had no idea. He _had_ to have a name. Everyone had a name.   
  
He needed to find out more, and there certainly wouldn't be any answers in this tiny bathroom. Steeling himself, he took his hands off the sticky tile until his torso was upright, then used the sink to support himself as he stood. His vision blackened and he held tight until it passed.   
  
Blinking slowly, he took deep breaths as he stared down at his knuckles, white where he gripped the edge of the sink, then looked up and nearly jumped out of his skin to find someone staring back at him.   
  
It took him a good three seconds of panic until he realized he was looking in a mirror, and the man staring at him with wild eyes was in fact his reflection.   
  
This was the first time he actually noticed he was wearing glasses. Curious, he raised a hand and took them off to find his vision really was quite terrible without them on, so he replaced them.   
  
He frowned and his reflection frowned back. It was a strange experience, seeing your own face for the first time. He discovered he had curly russet hair. _I need a haircut,_ he realized, for the hair curled down around his ears and was very close to covering his eyes. On the right side, it was matted down with blood. The revelation finally came that maybe this was _his_ blood; it certainly would explain why his head hurt so much.   
  
His skin was pale, so much so that the slight freckles dotting his nose and cheeks were made all the more prominent. His eyes were brown and wider than they looked like they should have been, or maybe that was the glasses. His nose was only what he could describe as "button-y", and it suited the curve of his top lip. When he wasn't frowning he actually looked quite young, and he found he was curious to know his age.   
  
Automatically upon seeing a new face, his brain judged its attractiveness; it didn't matter that the face was his own. He supposed he could be handsome, in his own way.   
  
Having seen enough of his face, he glanced down and found he was wearing a simple white t-shirt and black pyjama bottoms made of a thin material. The shirt was now ruined, one side of it stained a deep red that he guessed he'd never be able to get out. Both of his forearms were decorated with tattoos, which made him curious. He knew exactly who the characters were and what they were from, but he didn't know why or when he'd got them permanently engraved into his skin. He wondered if he had any more.   
  
He glanced back up, ready now to leave the room, but frowned at the mirror once again, except this time it wasn't because of what he saw in it.   
  
So far, all he knew about himself was that he was American, he wore glasses, and that he had either hit his head very hard on the ground or someone had done this to him. Either way, it had caused his memory loss. He wanted to know more.   
  
Reaching a hand towards the mirror as though he was trying to grab his reflection, he felt around the side of it until - _yes!_ \- he found a small indent, which he tugged on. The mirror swung open, and he had this great moment of hope that behind it he would find all the answers he sought, perhaps a memoir of his entire life complete with birth certificate.   
  
In the centre of the middle shelf sat sat a small folded piece of paper. The smile jumped back onto his face as he grabbed it, unfolding it quickly to find eight words scrawled in black ink:  
  
 _You are Michael Jones._  
 _Born July 24, 1987._  
  
That was it. He flipped the paper over, finding nothing more, then stared at the words again. They told him three valuable things: his name, his birthday, and his age. If only he knew what year it was.   
  
He ignored this and closed the medicine cabinet, frowning at himself in the mirror. Michael Jones did seem to be a name that suited him. Boring name for a boring guy. He just wished they'd given him a middle name.   
  
Who had written this, anyway? Someone left this here for him to find. Michael looked down at the paper in his hand then decided he had to find out where he was and what the _fuck_ was going on.   
  
Still clutching the paper, Michael turned around and stepped over the blood - _his_ blood - on the floor carefully, more than aware of the way his head seemed to want to float right off his shoulders. Pushing aside his dizziness, he grasped the knob of the closed door with his free hand and pulled.   
  
To his relief the door wasn't locked, and Michael stepped out warily into the smallest bedroom he had ever seen. Although, as far as he knew, this was the first bedroom he'd ever seen, so he didn't have much to go by.   
  
To his immediate right were a chest of drawers, pushed against the wall. A double bed sat in front of it, so close to the drawers that he doubted he could even open them all the way. Near the foot of the bed was a simple wooden stand with a thirty-inch flat screen on top of it.   
  
At the sight of the TV Michael's eyes widened and he hurried over to switch it on. Maybe now he could at least figure out what country he was in, what year it was, what the _hell_ was going on.   
  
Channel after channel of static flashed before him, his heart sinking lower with each one. This TV must not be connected to cable. So what was it for?  
  
For the first time, Michael kneeled to look inside the glass casing. To his surprise he found a sleek black Xbox 360, two controllers sitting on top of it. The shelf below it was filled with games, all in alphabetical order. He recognized some of his favourites.   
  
It was maddeningly frustrating, how he could remember what an Xbox 360 was and what his favourite game was, but not the first time he'd ever seen an Xbox nor the moment he decided which game was his favourite. His fingers itched to play, and just by looking at the array of games he guessed that he loved everything about the Xbox, but he had more important things to do.   
  
As he straightened, Michael realized that maybe this was _his_ apartment, that these things were _his_. It certainly would make sense; maybe he'd slipped on his way into the bathroom and hit his head.   
  
Although that wouldn't explain the complete lack of windows, even in the bedroom. Unease settled over him as he shuffled towards the bedroom door, certainly not expecting to find it locked and deadbolted. Was he really that paranoid? Why have so many locks on a bedroom door?  
  
Muttering angrily, Michael slid back the deadbolt and turned the lock, but he certainly was not expecting what he found on the other side of the door. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait... I was away with no internet, although that did give me time to write; I have up to chapter seven written out now and I think there's only one more. I'll probably be posting twice a week with this, but please keep commenting! I love to read them c:

Michael's immediate reaction was to close the door again and never reopen it. But the rational side of his brain activated, and told him to _calm the fuck down, shithead_. 

A large common room opened before him, half tiled and half hardwood. Across from him was a single door--this is what he assumed to be the exit, and he wanted to run to it.

The tiled half appeared to be some sort of kitchen, while the hardwood half was the living room. The living room held several leather couches and chairs, and another, larger television with its own Xbox underneath. It was what he saw in the kitchen that scared the shit out of him, though. 

It was pretty average, the appliances you'd expect - stove, fridge, sink and counters, dishwasher - pushed against the far wall. There wasn't a window in sight but an analog clock on the wall to his left told him it was 3:30. Without windows, though, he had no idea whether it was AM or PM. In the middle of the room sat a large table, made of dark wood, with ten chairs, four of which were occupied. 

As Michael stood in his doorway and stared, the man at the head of the table noticed him and smiled, getting out of his chair. He nodded to Michael, looking down at his companions, and the other three turned their eyes on him. 

The man who had noticed him first was dark-haired, with an average build and a short beard, too long to be stubble. He looked tired but the smile on his face was friendly and genuine. As he approached, however, Michael's hand gripped the knob tighter and he retreated slightly, eyes wide, confused and a little bit frightened. 

The man stopped where he was, though his smile didn't falter. Michael noticed the other three men were hanging back by the table--probably to reduce his exposure to people and avoid scaring him. It worked, a little. Michael stared out at the dark-haired man and waited for him to say something, ready to close the door if anything bad happened. 

"I'm Geoff." Somehow attaching a name to this man made him less scary. Geoff took another small step closer, like he was coaxing a baby bird, and extended his right hand. 

For the first time Michael noticed the colourful tattoos covering Geoff's entire arms that continued past the sleeves of his t-shirt, and that drew him out of his doorframe. For some reason the tattoos helped him to trust Geoff, maybe because of the ones he sported on his own arms. 

"Michael." His own voice still sounded strange to his ears, but he guessed he'd be used to it soon. He took the hand that was offered and Geoff squeezed lightly before letting go. His hands were much rougher than Michael's, and he couldn't imagine why. 

"Look what came out of door number five!" Another man, who looked to be the younger of the four, approached with arms spread. Michael took a step back, not entirely comfortable, although the guy did look harmless enough. More of a boy than a man, he wore black-framed glasses that matched his dark hair and stubble. His entire body seemed to be made of shades of grey: black hair and t-shirt, grey shorts, and black-and-white checkered shoes. Glancing behind him, Michael could see the two other guys roll their eyes. 

"Ray, shut the fuck up." Geoff cast a lazy eye to the side, though his words had no malice to them. "You just showed up three days ago; quit acting like you're the greatest thing to grace this Earth."

Ray ignored Geoff aside from allowing his grin to stretch wider, and he bowed deeply in front of Michael, waving a hand to his side. "Ray Narvaez Jr, at your service." He raised his head slightly, that wicked grin still on his face.

Michael found himself grinning back; it was hard not to like this guy. "Michael Jones. Least I think that's my name." He turned to Geoff then as Ray straightened up, for he seemed to be the unofficial leader of the group. "I don't mean to be rude, but can you tell me what I'm doing here? I think I hit my head or something and now I can't remember a single thing. And what did you mean when you said Ray'd shown up three days ago?" Curiosity burned in him now; here were four guys who might have some idea about who and where he was, and he wanted to know everything.

Geoff and Ray exchanged a look before Geoff turned back to Michael, an oddly serious look on his face. "Have a shower first, kid. Clean that blood off, then come back and I'll explain everything. As much as I know, anyway."

Michael opened his mouth to protest - he didn't _want_ a shower, he wanted to know _now_ \- but Ray spoke first. "You'd better listen to the boss. He can be a real Nazi sometimes." There was a wink, followed by a "Hey!" from Geoff, before Ray ended up on the floor, pinned by his boss. 

"Geoff, no! Not the face!"

Michael relaxed, a grin spreading across his face, as he looked up at the two other guys, who were laughing as well. He nodded to them before retreating inside his room to take a much-deserved shower. 

Michael's head was swimming with all this new information he'd picked up from such a short conversation; already the logical part of his brain was picking apart everything about his situation, trying to figure out as much as possible. Why hadn't any of the guys been alarmed by the blood caking the right side of his body? Why hadn't they been surprised to see some random guy step out of some random room? What was this strange area? Some kind of dorm, maybe?

Standing in his room trying to figure this out wasn't helping him find the answers any faster. Michael stepped into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it instinctively, which surprised him. He wished he could remember why he felt it necessary to lock doors. Who was he trying to keep out? 

Trying to push back his thoughts, he looked down and realized he still clutched the piece of paper containing the only information about himself that he had. Carefully he set it on the counter next to the sink, then stripped and dropped his clothes on the puddle of blood that still clotted the floor. He ignored the blood and examined his body. This was also the first time he had seen himself naked--it really was the weirdest thing. The experience, that was. Not his body. His body was fine. He found another tattoo, on his upper bicep, of the Zelda Triforce engulfed by flames. He admired his tattoos in the mirror, grinning despite himself. Past him had had pretty good taste. 

Michael turned, realizing he was wasting time, and started the shower. Warm water run between his fingers as he held them under the head, and he stepped under it. In the shower he found shampoo and body wash, and a razor, presumably for his face, though he hadn't really seen any facial hair besides on the sides of his jaw. He scrubbed his hair and body until the water no longer ran red and shut off the shower. A towel rack was bolted to the wall across from him, and he dried himself quickly. 

Having no desire to put the bloody pyjamas back on, Michael remembered the chest of drawers he'd seen. If he did indeed live here, maybe those drawers contained clothes that fit him.

Unlocking the bathroom door, Michael toed out with the towel still wrapped firmly around himself. Automatically he gave the tiny bedroom a once-over and, having determined there was no threat anywhere, opened the drawers. He picked out a t-shirt, boxers, and jeans, and tried them on to find that, yes, they did fit him. Again, his belief that this tiny apartment belonged to him was reinforced, although he'd never know if he didn't go talk to Geoff. 

Freshly showered and with clean clothes on, Michael again stepped out of his room to find the four men again seated at the table, talking quietly, though they stopped when they noticed him. Ray, who'd been looking a bit bored, positively beamed at the sight of Michael, sitting up further in his chair. 

Michael gave a tentative smile back, as Geoff beckoned him over. "Come on, come sit down."

A little wary of the other two men, Michael obeyed, walking around the table and taking the ever-so-convenient seat between Geoff and Ray. Ray was to his right and Geoff sat at the head of the table to his left, the other two men to Geoff's left and across from Michael and Ray. The remaining five seats were unoccupied. 

Now that he was facing his own room, Michael saw that there were five other doors identical to his own along the same wall, his being the fifth, and his curiosity mounted. What kind of place was this?

"What--?" Michael asked, about to voice his question, but Geoff shook his head. 

"It'd be a lot easier if you saved your questions for the end, kid. I've had to recite this three times already and I'm not looking forward to doing it a fourth."

Michael deflated a little and nodded, leaning back heavily in the chair he found himself in, looking around the room as Geoff spoke. 

"About a month ago now, I woke up in my bathroom. My head was glued to the tile with my own blood, and I couldn't remember a single thing about my past. Could remember the rest of the world just fine, though, but nothing about myself in specific. Couldn't even remember where I'd got these tattoos." Geoff nodded to the sleeves decorating his forearms. At his words Michael's heart sunk. He'd expected Geoff to know what was going on, but the man didn't even know where he'd come from. 

"I wandered around for a bit - not very long, believe me - and I found this room," Geoff continued. "Fridge was fully stocked, I had an Xbox and a shelf full of games in my room, and no annoying neighbours to bother me. What more could a guy want? 

"Well, I sure as hell wanted more. I wanted out. But the other five doors were locked tight, and no matter what I did I couldn't open them. The only other door, the one over there--" Geoff pointed to the door Michael had though was the exit. "--is a pantry-slash-supply closet, I guess. I was stuck here.

"About two weeks after that, Jack showed up." Geoff nodded to the man who sat across from Michael. He had glasses and a kind face, though most of it was taken up by a reddish beard. Jack grinned at Michael and gave him a tiny wave. Michael just nodded, wanting to know the rest of Geoff's story. 

"His room was exactly the same as mine and he knew about as much as I did, but it was better than just fucking sitting around," Geoff went on. "Ryan came a week after that--" He gestured to the other man, who grinned crookedly. Michael took an immediate liking to him. "--and Ray four days later, who you've already met."

At the mention of his name Ray grinned obnoxiously and interrupted Geoff. "Place needed a little livening up, if you ask me."

"Shut the fuck up."

Ray cracked up and Michael watched in fascination as he took Geoff's insults with not so much as a batted eyelash. 

"So, wait..." Michael turned back to Geoff, a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue. "We're like... prisoners here?"

Geoff shrugged, not seeming to be too bothered by the question. "I guess so, yeah. Unless that sixth door is a way out, we're pretty fucked."

Michael's eyes widened. "What about food? Whatever's in that fridge must not last long--"

Geoff waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, that. It refills itself."

" _What?_ " Now _that_ seemed a little too impossible. 

"Or something. There's gotta be _some_ way in, because how else would the fridge get more food in it? And how would your sorry ass have gotten in here?"

Michael went slack, slumping back in his chair, mind whirring. So he was trapped in some weird apartment with four other guys and a fridge that refilled itself. But hey, at least they had Xboxes, right?

Geoff chuckled next to him, having noticed his wide eyes and confused face. "Yeah, Ray did about the same thing when I told him. You kids must have mush for brains. Speaking of which.. how old are you?" 

Michael glanced up at Geoff. His head hurt. "Depends. What year is it?"

Geoff let out a laugh then, and Michael found himself grinning weakly back. "Forgot you don't know shit. Today's August 9th, 2013. Fine Friday in hell."

"Twenty-six," Michael muttered out. "My birthday was two weeks ago."

"Found your paper then, did you?"

"How'd you know what day it was?" Michael asked, ignoring the question. He had too many of his own. 

"Ah--" Geoff held up his right wrist and shook it, where a watch rested, stark black against the tattoos. "Guess whoever dropped us here put me in charge of watches. Tells me the date and the time--it's 4 _PM_ , by the way."

"Speaking of which--" Jack spoke up finally, raising an eyebrow at Geoff. "You ready to get your ass kicked in Halo?"

"Oh you're on, motherfucker!"

Before Michael could get in another word Geoff and Jack were clamouring over each other to get at the Xbox across the room. He sat in his chair for another few seconds before Ryan grinned and stood. 

"Nice meeting you, Michael." He sounded a lot like Jack. 

Ryan wandered off to sit and watch Geoff and Jack, leaving Michael alone with Ray. There was a few more seconds of silence, then Michael was turning to Ray. He liked his company. 

"Why are we here?"

Ray shrugged. "No idea. Geoff doesn't know either. All any of us knows are our names and birthdays. Fuck, we don't even know if we'd _agreed_ to be here. Maybe this is some new reality TV shit. Drop five clueless guys in a room and see which two go gay for each other first." Ray winked at Michael with a cheeky grin on his face, then dissolved into laughter. Michael found himself laughing along, despite his own worries.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah thank you guys for the comments! I love hearing what you think, even if it's just a few words c: On that note, I apologize in advance for how fucking OOC this chapter is and the story probably will be from now on. I am and always have been terrible at keeping characters consistent, but I'm trying! That's what counts, right?

There was an order to everything, as Michael found out. Each man was expected to pull his own weight and clean up his own mess. Geoff usually cooked with the assistance of Jack, and the food was pretty good. Laundry, unfortunately, had to be done by hand in each respective man's bathtub. Better than nothing, though. Days usually consisted of breakfast, chores, lunch, Xbox, dinner, then Xbox until bed. There really wasn't much else to do, besides get utterly plastered with the help of the kitchen's generous liquor supply.   
  
In the supply closet Michael had found a variety of hygiene products, over-the-counter medicines, and cleaning supplies. He used the bleach to clean his floor, but discarded the t-shirt. He had plenty more.   
  
After two days had passed, Michael had discovered a lot about himself and the men he now lived with. He found he really did enjoy each man's company, whether individually or as a group. But there was still that sixth door that nagged at him, and he'd catch himself staring at it without realizing he had been.   
  
It had occurred to him that Geoff could be lying to all of them, since none of them knew anything about their past before they woke up in this apartment. But what other choice did Michael have, really, but to trust him? There was no cable, no Internet, no phone. He had absolutely no idea what was going on on the outside of this building. He _did_ know that someone was watching them, though; there were tiny cameras in every room, even the bathrooms. Maybe Ray was right about reality TV. Michael hoped they'd have the decency to blur out his nakedness when they aired the show.   
  
On the second day after his arrival, during a particularly challenging versus match against Ray, a shiver crawled up Michael's spine, like someone was watching him.   
  
"360 no-scope!" Ray crowed as Michael's character crumpled to the ground, for its player had gone rigid. Michael abruptly dropped the controller - prompting a "What the hell?" from Geoff, who was watching the match with Jack and Ryan - and stood from the couch.   
  
Seated next to him, Ray peered up at Michael, eyebrows raised. "Backing out already? I mean I'm only winning by three kills..."  
  
Michael ignored him and turned so he was facing the six doors behind him. The first five were closed, but not locked. The sixth was ajar, and Michael's eyes widened at the sight of a man standing in the doorframe, looking as scared as Michael probably had.   
  
At the sight of Michael, the man took a hesitant step out of the darkness of his room. He had dull brown hair that shot out in feathery tufts all over the place and his jaw was covered in a light five o'clock shadow, like he'd forgotten to shave. His eyes were heavy and hooded as he stared out warily, and his nose... well. His nose took up most of his face, though Michael found it suited him. This complete stranger he'd only laid eyes on three seconds before.   
  
The man took another step out, and apparently he'd had the common sense to shower and change rather than come out covered in blood like Michael had. He stared at Michael and Michael stared back.   
  
Having noticed where he was looking, the other four guys turned to look as well, and Michael heard Geoff take a slight intake of air at the sight of the new arrival.   
  
"...Michael?" New Guy's ridiculous accent warped Michael's name, made it sound—Hold on.   
  
 _He knows my name._  
  
In one fluid movement, Michael was vaulting over the back of the sofa and grabbing New Guy by the collar of his ridiculous polo, pinning him against the wall to the right of the door. New Guy made a sort of squawking noise until his back thumped against the wall and the air whooshed out of his lungs. Michael snarled in his face; he wanted answers, and he wanted them now.   
  
"How did you know my name? Who are you? Who am _I_?"  
  
New Guy pressed his hands against Michael's chest, squirming. "Ge'roff me!" he protested, looking past Michael to the other guys, who hadn't made any moves judging by the fact that Michael hadn't been pulled away yet.   
  
Michael pressed closer. He was practically breathing fire in New Guy's face as his hands tightened around the taller man's shirtfront. " _Answer_ me."  
  
New Guy's eyes - green - darted around the room. "Fuck, uh—M'name's Gavin Free." Michael's knuckles pressed against his collarbone as New Guy - Gavin - let out a squeak. "I don't know you, I swear! I don't even know a mingin' thing about myself! I just saw you and you looked like a Michael, is all!"  
  
"Liar."  
  
"No, no!" Gavin's eyes widened and he looked past Michael for help. "Don't just fucking stand there! Get this psychopath off of me!"  
  
Michael growled in Gavin's face and pressed his knuckles up against his jugular before he felt hands on him, tugging him away from Gavin. He looked up and Geoff stood over him, hands on either of Michael's shoulders.   
  
To his credit, Gavin at least tried to glare as he fixed his shirt, but Michael could see the unmistakable fear on the new arrival's face. Guilt flashed through him; guy was barely out the door and already Michael was attacking him.   
  
"Uh, sorry about that," Michael apologized meekly, eyes cast to the floor as Geoff squeezed his shoulder lightly.   
  
When he didn't get an answer Michael looked up to find Gavin watching him carefully. Under that green stare Michael felt uncomfortable, and he shifted where he stood. Finally, Gavin gave him a small smile. "'S all right. But you _could_ tell me where the chaff I am."  
  
Michael blinked. _Chaff?_ "Uh.." He didn't know where to begin; Geoff took over while Michael was fumbling.   
  
"C'mon. Sit down." Geoff swept his arm towards the couches, and Gavin only hesitated for a second before obliging. Michael followed as if in a daze, brow furrowed in confusion. He hated amnesia.   
  
Michael took his original spot next to Ray, and Gavin sat next to him, much to Michael's surprise. Gavin didn't seem to interested in anyone besides Geoff, though, for he stared with wide eyes, waiting for answers.   
  
Instead of sitting, Geoff paced back and forth in front of the TV, forcing Ray to weave left and right to see around him as he killed Michael's unmanned character over and over seemingly for the fun of it. Ray, to his credit, didn't seem too interested in the new arrival, maybe because he'd already found a friend in Michael.   
  
About three seconds passed before Gavin was off, speaking in that moronic accent of his. "So? What's going on here? Where—?"  
  
Geoff stopped and held up his hands while Jack and Ryan looked on from the love seat. "Please, kid, no questions. Not for me anyway. I'll tell you as much as I know then you can bother one of the other guys."  
  
That seemed to shut Gavin up. He nodded meekly and settled for watching and listening as Geoff explained as much as he had to Michael.   
  
"—And two days ago Michael here showed up. Noticed you two've already met." Geoff quirked an eyebrow and Michael ducked his head, muttering something of another apology.   
  
"Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna kick Ray's ass in Call of Duty," Geoff announced, scooping up Michael's abandoned controller and seating himself in the plush recliner, dubbed "Geoff's chair".   
  
Ray's crows of victory were lost on Michael's ears as Gavin turned to him. Michael sized up the Brit, looking him up and down and leaning away slightly. Gavin looked a bit worse for wear having found out that he was trapped in some random apartment, but other than that he looked about ready to ask Michael a hundred questions. Michael steeled himself.   
  
"How old are you?" Oh. Not what he was expecting.   
  
Michael again examined Gavin's face before answering. "Twenty-six. It's the 11th of August, 2013, in case you were wondering," he added.   
  
"Oh. 'M twenty-five." And that was all. Gavin turned his face towards his hands and stared at them like he was looking for answers. Michael felt a stab of.. was that pity?   
  
"Is that it? You're not gonna say anything else?" Unconsciously Michael kept his voice low, like he only wanted their conversation to be audible to the two of them. He wasn't sure why.   
  
Gavin just shrugged. "Guess not. Sorry to disappoint."  
  
Gavin's surliness made Michael uncomfortable; the only thing he really knew was having fun with the other four guys. Determined to change the situation, Michael stood and made his way into the kitchen.   
  
Opening the fridge, he debated on beers but decided he'd probably need something stronger. Turning to their liquor cabinet, Michael tugged out a bottle of Scotch and two glasses, which he filled with ice. He didn't know why whoever was holding them here had given them so much alcohol, but Michael wasn't complaining.   
  
Geoff, who seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to booze, appeared beside Michael. "Fixing new guy something?"  
  
Michael snorted. "That black cloud he's got hanging over his head is gonna give _me_ depression. He needs to loosen up." He took the short glasses between the fingers of one hand and grabbed the entire bottle to bring back.   
  
Shoving past Gavin's knees, Michael sat down heavily and dropped the Scotch and glasses on the coffee table.   
  
Ray blanched at the sight and abandoned his murder of an innocent NPC, standing. "If you guys are gonna get pissed I guess that means bed time for me. As entertaining as you guys are, I'll pass on that for tonight." He turned off the Xbox and left the controller on the coffee table, bidding the rest of the room good night. Jack and Ryan followed, neither of them much for "partying", as Jack had put it.  
  
Over Gavin's head, Michael glanced at the clock. It was only 10; he didn't know why the other three were going to bed so early. Noticing Gavin hadn't reacted to the booze dropped in front of him, Michael nudged his shoulder. "Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but—" He held out a glass. "—here." Gavin just sort of stared, then turned his eyes to look at Michael, not a word leaving his mouth.  
  
Michael was starting to panic, to fear he'd alienated this guy from him forever, but he still tried to joke. "Come on, don't tell me you don't drink too? Ray sure is boring as a drinking buddy if he just stays sober."  
  
At the words, Gavin scoffed like he'd been unfrozen and almost immediately snatched up the bottle, half-filling his glass and downing a mouthful. He shot Michael a look out of the corner of his eye, though there was a tiny smile there. "Happy?"  
  
Michael laughed. "Geoff, we've got a live one!" He filled his own glass as Geoff wandered back with a glass full of darker liquid, probably Jack.   
  
"Oh, awesome!" Geoff's voice cracked at the end of the sentence and Michael heard a tiny giggle to his left. "Those other three idiots can't hold their liquor like Michael can." He practically threw himself down in his chair, swivelling so he faced the two younger men, a wide grin on his face. "Trust me, Gavin, you'll like it here."  
  
Gavin just raised his glass, smiling back. Michael took the opportunity to knock his glass against Gavin's, revelling in the satisfying _clink_  it made. "Cheers, big ears. Or should I say big nose?" he joked, nudging Gavin again as he knocked back a mouthful of his own Scotch. He fought to keep the grimace off his face but the warmth that seared through his body was worth the taste.   
  
It took Gavin two half-glasses before his shoulders finally relaxed and he was grinning all over the place. Michael guessed either his stomach was empty or the Brit was a real lightweight. Maybe both.   
  
Either way, Gavin soon had his arm draped across Michael's shoulder and the rest of his body pressed against the older man's. He smelled like soap and Scotch, and Michael found himself relaxing against the couch back after four of his own drinks, giggling at the way Gavin's accent looped around his words, making his voice sound like an audio roller coaster. Michael tried to voice this brilliant metaphor.   
  
"You sound like a roller coaster," he informed Gavin as the younger man was stopped mid-sentence.   
  
Gavin frowned at this, looking a little confused.   
  
"No no, he's right!" Geoff sat up straighter, on his third Jack himself, having clued in to Michael's genius. Michael himself nodded along and crunched on a piece of ice.   
  
"It's like this," Geoff was saying, though Michael was having a hard time focusing with Gavin breathing in his ear. "A bunch of words you say is like a bunch of people on a roller coaster. For Michael and me the ride's pretty boring, but you add all kinds of loops and drops that makes the sentence piss itself with fear." Geoff sat back, looking quite proud of himself for his analogy.   
  
"...Wot?"   
  
"See! You just did it there!"   
  
Michael giggled again, leaning into Gavin and finding he enjoyed the warmth the Brit was giving off—it was like sitting next to a fireplace.   
  
"Oh, Michael, you have dimples!" Gavin was staring at him, sporting a lopsided grin of his own. Keeping his glass steady with four fingers, he poked Michael in the cheek.   
  
"I do?" Michael had never seen himself smile in a mirror and suddenly he wanted to see these dimples he didn't know he'd had. Downing the last mouthful in his glass, he stood and pulled Gavin up with him. Keeping hold of his wrist, Michael tugged Gavin into his own room, leaving his glass on the table.   
  
"Where're we goin'?" Gavin asked as Michael closed the door.   
  
Michael snorted. "Bathroom, dumbass. Where else am I gonna find a mirror?"  
  
There was a pounding on the door and Geoff's voice echoed through the wood. "Hey, when you two fuck, try to keep it down for Ray's sake!"  
  
Gavin just giggled and Michael rolled his eyes. He tugged slightly on the wrist between his fingers and led Gavin into the bathroom. It was a wonder they made it there without falling over; Michael himself felt like the floor was about to flip over under his feet and Gavin had to feel the same.   
  
The change from hardwood to tile was surprisingly cold, even in sock feet. Michael flipped on the bathroom light and dropped Gavin's wrist, leaning on the counter to examine his own face.   
  
"Hey, your room looks exactly the same as mine," Gavin remarked. Michael looked past his own reflection to find Gavin staring at the shower suspiciously as if it was going to change while he wasn't looking.   
  
"Just get over here and show me these dimples."  
  
"Just th' one, actually," Gavin muttered and Michael was surprised as Gavin moved to stand next to him until their shoulders brushed in the cramped space. "Smile."  
  
Michael obeyed. He did, in fact, just have one dimple on his cheek, which made him laugh.   
  
"How come I can't remember anything?" Gavin asked suddenly, his drunken giddiness giving way to drunken depression. Michael's smile faded; he turned to face the real Gavin, not the reflection, as the taller man continued to stare in the mirror.   
  
"If it makes you feel any better I can't remember shit either. None of us can," Michael remarked, his hip leaning against the counter, though Gavin already knew this.  
  
"What about my family? Don't they miss me?"  
  
Inwardly Michael groaned; this was exactly the melancholy he'd been trying to avoid by force-feeding Gavin Scotch.   
  
"Maybe they've all gone on holiday," Gavin continued. "And I was meant to housesit while they were away." Suddenly his eyes widened and he turned to Michael, in a state of absolute panic. "Michael, what if there was some big family get-together in Dusseldorf and I was meant to feed their fish and water their plants?"  
  
Michael blinked dumbly. "Dussel-what?"  
  
Gavin was beside himself now, grabbing Michael's shoulders. For half a second Michael thought he was about to get the sense shaken into him, but Gavin just stared wide-eyed. "Michael! Imagine all the dead fish and plants my poor relatives are going to come back to!"  
  
"You can't be serious—"  
  
"And it'll be all my fault!" Gavin wailed, dropping his hands and looking up to the ceiling. "I get bloody amnesia at just the perfect time for mass fish genocide!"  
  
"Geno- _what_?" Michael's brain was having a hard time keeping track of Gavin's train of thought.   
  
"Michael!" Gavin had a habit of saying Michael's name as much as possible, he'd recently noticed. Gavin was serious now, looking Michael in the eye again. "Do you have any fish food?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"So we can go feed the fish!" Gavin grasped Michael's face in his hands, looking frustrated that Michael wasn't following along on his plan.   
  
Michael took Gavin's wrists and brought the hands away from his face, letting go when they were about chest level. "Gav. Remember? We're trapped in here."  
  
From the next room came a muffled cry of, "No way in! No way out!" These walls were too thin for their own good.   
  
"Ray, shut the fuck up!" Michael hollered.   
  
There was an even louder cry in response, from Geoff's room: " _All_ of you had better shut the fuck up or else!" Silence followed his words.   
  
Michael couldn't help but giggle at the strange arrangement they had here. It was weird but he loved it.   
  
"Stop doing that." Gavin was frowning at him and Michael stopped mid-laugh.   
  
"What?"  
  
"Dimpling."  
  
"Is that even a word? I'll do whatever I want and you can't stop me." Just to prove his point, Michael smiled obnoxiously wide, showing his teeth. Why Gavin didn't want him "dimpling", he couldn't imagine.   
  
Gavin just pulled his own face, an incessant flaring of his nostrils, then raised the glass he still held in his hand. He tipped it back to drink, but got only a mouthful of air. He frowned and looked up into the empty glass. "I'm out of bevs."  
  
Michael leaned against the wall behind him and watched Gavin, still riding his own alcohol-induced high. The grin was still on his face, though he held it lazily. "Just go get more."  
  
Gavin lowered the glass and pouted. Fucking _pouted_. "But Michael," he protested.   
  
"Oh but Micool!" Michael adopted a high-pitched imitation of Gavin's accent and then dissolved into laughter. "See how fuckin' stupid you sound?"  
  
Gavin at least tried to look angry as Michael laughed, but he wasn't very good at it. Silence settled as Michael's laughter faded and he realized just how close they were standing, and then as an accessory to that he noticed Gavin's eyes were brown surrounded by a thicker ring of green.   
  
Gavin stood there like he wanted to say something, and of its own accord Michael's brain tried to recall anything about his own sexual preferences. He'd just kind of assumed he was straight, but—The way Gavin's eyes were half-lidded was making Michael's stomach do weird things. Or maybe that was just the Scotch.   
  
And, _Christ_ , Gavin was biting his lip. "Michael?" he asked, his voice half a whisper.   
  
"Yeah?" Michael responded distractedly, preoccupied with the way Gavin was giving him bedroom eyes.   
  
"What're you doing?"  
  
And, just like that, the illusion was shattered into a million tiny pieces; turned out Gavin was not, in fact, giving anyone bedroom eyes. Michael had just been moving closer almost unconsciously and Gavin was looking at him like he'd grown a second head.   
  
Trying to play himself off as casual, Michael muttered out a, "Nothin'." Then, like the nonchalant guy he really was, followed up with, "What're _you_ doing?"  
  
"Your face is three inches away from mine. That's what I'm doing." The look on Gavin's face... Michael didn't know what to think of it. The younger man's eyebrows were raised, though there was a faint amusement to his tone that Michael took to mean that Gavin wasn't bothered, just curious.   
  
Mind foggy, Michael tried to process what this meant, and what he should do. He _knew_ how society worked, knew what flirting was and how to do it. With no past experience, though, he felt like a teenager, nervous, but unlike a teenager he could just play any of this off as drunkenness.   
  
"Your face looks even dumber up close," Michael muttered, because being so close meant he didn't have to speak as loudly.   
  
Cockiness radiated from Gavin as he smirked devilishly, eyes lighting with a fire that Michael wasn't sure what to make of. "Your cheeks are red," Gavin commented smoothly, as though pointing out Michael's weaknesses.   
  
Not about to be made an idiot of, Michael pulled a contempt face. "Yeah, well, your accent is stupid." Smooth, Michael. Totally not idiotic in any way.   
  
His hands itched to touch Gavin, if only so that they weren't standing there awkwardly, so close and yet completely separate. He wasn't sure how okay Gavin was with any of this, but he hadn't moved away yet so that was a good sign.  
  
Instead of words, Gavin himself pressed forward; Michael, surprised, backed up until his back bumped against the wall behind him. Gavin just kept coming until his breath was warm on Michael's lips. It smelled like Scotch.   
  
"What's your last name?" Gavin purred, his voice sounding like liquid honey.   
  
Michael was a little bit taken aback by the question, but that was nothing compared to the butterflies erupting in his stomach from their proximity. Gavin was so _close_ to him; their chests were practically touching.   
  
There was that damn smirk again. "Swallowed your tongue?"  
  
Cheeks flaming, Michael hated how much of a fool he was making of himself. "No," he said past clenched teeth.   
  
"Prove it," Gavin challenged.  
  
"Prove it? Wh—?"   
  
Before Michael could react there was pressure against his collarbone and lips against his own and oh _fuck_ Gavin was kissing him. Panic swept through him because he didn't _know_  how to kiss, he didn't remember how, what if he did it wrong? Shit, shit, get your act together Michael.  
  
Apparently Gavin didn't care that he hadn't responded and a tongue was forcing Michael's mouth open and oh _God_ Gavin tasted like Scotch and toothpaste and just _Gavin_. Michael's eyes finally slid shut as Gavin's tongue swept inside his mouth and before he knew it it was gone, leaving his mouth feeling a little cold—  
  
"Found it," came a voice from in front of him and Michael frowned. Confused, he pulled his head back so quickly that he knocked it against the wall.   
  
"Shit," he cursed under his breath as pain reverberated through his skull; worse than that was the crippling embarrassment flowing throughout his entire body. "Sorry about that, I just—" He cut himself off, unable to vocalize exactly _what_ was in his brain.   
  
Forcing open his eyes, Michael found that Gavin's were centimetres away from his own and _shit_ they were so green. Gavin leaned over him even as Michael had pulled away, the fingers of one hand splayed across the older man's collarbone, effectively anchoring him in place.  
  
"Jones," Michael managed. "My last name. Jones."   
  
Gavin's face lit up with a smile as he stepped back, hand sliding off of Michael's chest to join his other and cup around his empty glass, which he still held. "Your face is so red," he giggled, and that was infuriating in itself. They had just _shared saliva_ ; Michael could still fucking taste it in his mouth and that was all Gavin had to say? Of course his face was red!  
  
Cheeks burning, Michael turned and stalked out of the room - as well as he could with four Scotches in his system - and through to the common area, throwing himself back on the couch. He needed a drink.   
  
The glass and bottle he'd left were looking very inviting but already Michael didn't feel like moving, even to sit up and pour himself a drink. He was watching the bottle and hoping it would pour itself into his glass when he felt a hand in his hair.   
  
He would have jumped, but he knew who it was. "What the hell are you doing," he muttered, though his words carried no malice.   
  
It was as if Gavin had completely forgotten what had just happened and was now playing with Michael's curls, and damn it Michael was leaning into his touch. He felt himself relax and his eyes lidded themselves; if he was a cat he would've been purring.   
  
"Your hair's soft, Michael," Gavin was leaning over him now, and Michael just sighed softly in response. It was only 11-ish, but the alcohol was getting to him and all he wanted to do was sleep for three years.   
  
"Woah, it's like I've hypnotized you," Gavin was saying.   
  
Michael didn't answer and didn't really care. That was, until the fingers in his hair disappeared and some time later ice was thrust down the back of his shirt. With a yelp, Michael shot to his feet, feeling frayed and on-edge from being jerked away from sleep so suddenly. The ice fell out the back of his shirt and clattered on the floor, and there was only one place it could have come from.   
  
"Gavin!" Michael snapped. The idiot was giggling madly, hand covering his mouth as he stood behind the couch for protection. Michael's eyes flicked to the kitchen and saw Gavin's glass sitting on the counter next to the fridge; when had Gavin left to get ice?  
  
"You are so fucking dead," Michael snarled, jumping on the couch and then vaulting over it like he had done earlier. This time was far less graceful; his foot caught on the top of the sofa and he almost ended up on his face.   
  
Having not noticed his slip-up, Gavin seemed surprised to find Michael standing in front of him rather than on the other side of the couch. What he did notice was the look of malice in Michael's eyes and that prompted a squawk of sorts; as Gavin scrambled to get away he tripped over his own feet and ended up on the floor with Michael staring down at him.   
  
"Michael, please!"  
  
Ignoring his pleas, Michael straddled Gavin and held down one of his arms with one hand and with the other Michael jabbed a finger into Gavin's ribs. It got the reaction he'd been expecting; another squawk came out of Gavin's mouth and he squirmed wildly, trying to get away.   
  
A grin erupted on Michael's face. He added more fingers to the mix, poking and jabbing at Gavin's ribs, laughing at the ridiculous noises he was hearing.   
  
"Jesus Christ, _why_ did I have to get stuck in the same weird freaky prison as you two?"  
  
Michael looked up guiltily; there was Ray, leaning on his doorframe in a pair of pyjamas. Gavin still squirmed under him.   
  
"Guys, come on, I know you're trapped in a small space with five other dudes but you've barely known each other for two hours; can we save the loud sex for some other night? _Some_ of us are trying to get the Mile High Club achievement."  
  
"But we weren't—" Gavin began to protest, half of his face smushed against the hardwood.   
  
"He's kidding." Michael's voice was flat as he climbed off of Gavin and stood. The shock of being caught seemed to have sobered him up slightly, and it saved his already-bruised pride from any further injuries as he made it back to his own room without falling over.   
  
"I was—" He hesitated, not entirely sure how to explain what had just happened to Ray or even to himself. "'Night guys."  
  
As he closed the door he heard one more input from Ray, who always had to have the last word.   
  
"Bad time?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to say about the awesome comments I received, other than they are what motivates me to keep posting new chapters. Thank you guys <3

The next morning Michael was woken by a loud pounding on his door, which coincidentally matched the loud pounding in his head. When he put his glasses on and opened it he was met with a stony-faced Gavin holding a small piece of paper.   
  
"Where is it?" Gavin seemed angry, and Michael couldn't imagine why.   
  
Memories flooded back to him: those lips had been against his own and here Gavin was acting like it had never happened. Ticked off now, Michael's voice adopted a sting to it; who did Gavin think he was, waking him up with no explanation whatsoever?   
  
"Where is _what_ , Gavin? Use your words."  
  
Feathers clearly ruffled, Gavin just held out the paper by way of an explanation. Giving it a suspicious look, Michael took it and read it once. Then read it again.   
  
 _Now that one has become six,_  
 _three of you possess something your partner desires._  
 _Jack of all trades has taken the Wood he so desperately needs to survive;_  
 _Ramsey snuffed out that last Ray of light to hide in the dark;_  
 _And Jones Freed something he never should have._  
  
 _Your memory loss was not a coincidence, nor was your selection in being placed here. Each thief knew the person he stole from, whether through good luck or bad fortune, and each thief will find further clues hidden in their own rooms._  
 _And a warning: Food stores will not be replenished until every pair finds what they are seeking._  
 _Good luck._  
  
"'Jones Freed something he never should have'?" Michael looked up from the paper. "What the hell does that mean?"  
  
"You were supposed to know!" Gavin seemed to be torn between annoyance and panic. It was an odd combination.   
  
"Fuck. Hang on." Shoving the paper back into Gavin's hands, Michael closed his door and dressed hurriedly, shoving contacts into his eyes and nearly blinding himself in his haste. All the while he looked for these "clues" he was supposed to be finding. Nothing jumped out at him, though, and so he reopened the door. Gavin still stood there.   
  
"Michael, what did you free?" Gavin was beginning to look uneasy, and Michael shared his feelings; their message was ominous if nothing else.   
  
"I don't _know_ , Gavin. Amnesia, remember?"   
  
"Hey guys, Jack stole Ryan's wood!"  
  
"Well, Ray found his paper," Michael muttered. "Where was that, anyway?" he asked, louder, gesturing to the note in Gavin's hand.   
  
"Someone pushed it under my door."  
  
At the same time, Michael and Gavin looked down to find a small folded note on the floor between their feet. They went for it at the same time too, but luckily Michael got to it first; this was _his_ creepy-as-fuck clue, and he wanted to read it.   
  
 _Her name was Lloyd._  
  
"What the fuck?" Michael muttered, flipping the paper over to find nothing on the back. He reread the message, hoping it would make more sense a second time around. It didn't.   
  
"Lemme see!"   
  
"Fuck you Gavin, this is _my_ creepy ransom note, get your own!" Michael held it behind his back, mostly because he needed some semblance of normalcy in this shitstorm of a situation. Joking made him less nervous.   
  
"Michael!" Gavin glared. "I let you read mine!"  
  
About to shoot back a retort, Michael was interrupted by a holler that echoed across the apartment: "All right dickwads, meeting at the table in thirty seconds! No breakfast for any of you!"  
  
"Aw, Geoff," Gavin half-whined under his breath, then looked up at Michael. "I'm hungry."  
  
Unable to keep the grin off his face, Michael flicked Gavin's forehead affectionately. "'Food stores will not be replenished', remember? The less meals the better." With that he brushed past Gavin and made his way to the large wood table, where Ray already sat.   
  
Having noticed Michael, Ray gestured to the seat next to him and as Michael sat Ray broke into a wide grin. "Freed Gavin's dick, huh? I mean with all the noise you were making last night it couldn't have been anything else."  
  
"Is everything always about dicks with you?"  
  
Ray scoffed. "Come on, whoever wrote these notes pretty much set it up for me." He unfolded the paper he held in his hands as Gavin settled on Michael's other side. "'Jack of all trades has taken the Wood he so desperately needs to survive'?" Ray quoted, looking up to raise an eyebrow. "Dick jokes, man. So many dick jokes."  
  
Michael cracked a smile but didn't notice Gavin shifting uneasily behind him until the younger man spoke loudly.   
  
"Can't you two take _anything_  seriously?" Michael gawped at Gavin, who was looking pretty pissed off. "Ray, come on, you've had something _stolen_ from you! By _Geoff_! Doesn't that bother you at all?"  
  
Ray shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "I can't remember what it was that got stolen, so why worry about it?"  
  
"Why worry—!" Gavin threw his hands up, clearly exasperated with the situation, then jabbed a finger in Michael's direction. "Michael freed something he shouldn't have—"  
  
"Yeah, your dick—"  
  
Ignoring Ray, Gavin carried on. "—What if he let a serial killer out of prison? Would that 'bother' you then?"  
  
Indignant now, Michael interrupted. "Why would you _desire_ a serial killer, Gavin? Besides, if I'd let him out, that wouldn't exactly be stealing from you, would it?"  
  
"Will you three shut _up_?" Jack was coming out of his room, and sat across from Ray. "Let's just wait until we're all out here."  
  
"Yeah, _then_ you guys can tear each other's throats out," Ryan added, coming up behind Jack and sitting next to him. "And by all means, don't let me stop you." For a second Michael thought he was serious until Ryan cracked a toothy grin.   
  
"Hey, maybe Ryan's the serial killer you let out," Ray muttered to Michael's left, which only prompted Ryan to smile wider and shoot them a wink. Michael grinned and found that the immediate liking he'd taken to Ryan had not led him astray.   
  
All at once the door to Geoff's room banged open, and he strode out dressed in jeans and a simple t-shirt before taking his seat at the head of the table. For the first time Michael noticed that Gavin was the only one at the table still in his pyjamas.   
  
"Late to your own meeting," Ray joked. In response Geoff snatched the paper out of the younger man's hands and skimmed it over. Michael watched his eyes flit across the page before he looked up. "Who else got one of these?"  
  
"Uh, I did, and Gavin." Ryan leaned forward slightly to rest his forearms on the wood in front of him. "Just the ones who'd been 'stolen' from."  
  
"Oh!" That was when Michael remembered the paper he still held. "I found this in front of my door." He held it out to Geoff. "Someone must've slipped it underneath."  
  
Geoff took it and then read it before glancing up at Michael. "'Her name was Lloyd'? Who the hell is Lloyd?"  
  
" _Amnesia_ , Geoff," Michael reminded him. "I don't know."  
  
"Hang on," Jack interjected. "If Michael had one of these under his door, maybe you and I do?" he wondered aloud, addressing Geoff.   
  
"Worth a try."  
  
And with that the two men stood to go check. It wasn't long before a cry of triumph echoed from Jack's room, then Geoff's. Both returned with pieces of paper then sat in their original seats. Jack was looking down at his with a frown, while Geoff looked nonplussed about the whole thing.   
  
Placing his palms flat on the tabletop, Ray leaned forward eagerly. "So? What do they say? What ray of light did you snuff out?" Ray himself was treating this entire situation like it was some kind of prank, almost as if he was waiting for Ashton Kutcher to appear and tell them they were being punked.   
  
Michael heard a snort to his right and turned to see Gavin had his arms crossed. The brunet was looking down at the table like he was trying to burn a hole through it, and Michael nudged him, talking quietly. "Hey, if you stare any harder, that table's gonna burst into flames."  
  
Gavin's glare wavered and soon a small smile took over his features. He looked up at Michael, his grin growing wider, and Michael was again entranced by the green of his eyes, the pearly straightness of his teeth—  
  
Shit. He really _was_ turning into a girl. Quickly, Michael pretended to have his attention captured by Geoff and turned away to listen to what the older man was reading.   
  
"Mine just says, 'It got out of control.'" Geoff looked to Ray. "Anything?"  
  
Michael turned in time to catch a shadow cross Ray's face. If he didn't know better, he'd say it looked like a shadow of memory. It was gone as quickly as it had came, and Ray just adopted a neutral expression that had Michael wondering if he'd imagined the flicker. "Nada."  
  
"Mine says that, 'The loss totalled a small fortune.' That doesn't even make any sense." Jack seemed to be growing frustrated.   
  
"Maybe you chopped down my prized peach trees," Ryan put in. "My precious farm went out of business and I was ruined."  
  
Gavin, who had been quiet through the discussion, suddenly spoke up. "Okay, clues are great fun and all, but is anyone gonna ask how they got here?" He sat up from his slouched position, tapping his fingers against the tabletop. "Someone has to have _some_ way in here, or how else would these notes magically appear?" For effect Gavin waved his own in front of him. "There's gotta be some sort of hidden entrance, a trapdoor maybe—?"  
  
"Look," Geoff interrupted. "This isn't Indiana Jones. Or, sorry—" He adopted a high-pitched English accent. "—James Bond." Dropping the accent, he looked at Gavin with a steely expression. "I want to pound the fucker that's trapped us here as much as you do, but the longer we talk about shit that isn't these clues the longer we go without food. We can figure this out, _then_ we can find the hidden panel behind the fridge. Sound like a plan?"  
  
Gavin looked like he wanted to say more, but Michael spoke before Gavin could get himself in trouble. "—Then we need to find more. The notes said _clues_ , right? Not clue. That means there'll be more."  
  
"We should partner off and search each thieves' room." Jack leaned forward in his seat. "Victims with thieves. It'll be faster with two eyes instead of one."  
  
"Technically it's four instead of two," Ryan pointed out, "but I like where this is going."  
  
"Good," Geoff agreed. "Okay, Ryan with Jack, Michael with twink, and Ray you're with me."  
  
"All right, party with the boss!" Ray's face stretched with his grin, and he pushed up on the table to get to his feet. He practically skipped into Geoff's room, the older man following slower, grumbling about kids these days having too much energy.   
  
Jack disappeared with Ryan which left Michael at the table with Gavin, who still looked ticked. In an attempt to cheer him up, Michael whacked him lightly on the back of the head.   
  
This prompted Gavin's hand to fly to where he'd been hit. "Ow! What the hell was that for?"  
  
Well. Michael hadn't said he was the master of cheering up.   
  
"You were burning holes in the table again," Michael pointed out. "Besides, you probably deserved it."  
  
Gavin let out a small laugh at this, then reached forward and thwacked Michael back.   
  
"Ow!" It hadn't hurt at all, but this felt like flirting. Michael raised a fist, a teasing grin on his face. "I should hit that fuckin' nose of yours for that."  
  
"You tapped me once so I get to tap you back," Gavin said matter-of-factly, then stood and began his walk to Michael's room. Michael followed, wondering if Gavin knew what he'd just said in American.   
  
Michael closed the door behind him as Gavin surveyed the room, then shrugged and turned to Michael. "I don't see anything."  
  
Michael rolled his eyes. "That's because you have to actually _look_ , genius. Like, you know, under things?" Getting on his hands and knees, Michael peered under the bed. "It's dark as shit down there." He felt Gavin's presence beside him and knew the younger man was looking as well.   
  
"You don't happen to have a cellphone, do you?" Michael asked lamely, because he already knew the answer.   
  
Gavin scoffed. "No, Michael, of course not."  
  
"It was rhetorical—"  
  
"Here." Gavin stood and Michael sat up to see what he was doing. The Brit grasped the ends of the bed in a crouch, then stood and lifted the bed with him. Michael gawped.   
  
"Hurry it up, yeah?" The strain was evident in Gavin's voice. "This thing is heavy."  
  
Gavin had only lifted the bed a foot or two but it was enough to cast a bit more light underneath. Michael grinned when he found a small paper, stark white against the dark hardwood, and grabbed it.   
  
He showed Gavin and the younger man dropped the bed with a _thump_ , a smile lighting up his own features. "We make a pretty good team, Michael."  
  
"Team Nice Dynamite," Michael agreed, still sitting on the floor. It was the first name that popped into his head. He shifted positions so he was sitting on the bed then looked down at the paper in his hands. A creak of the mattress and the knee against his own told him Gavin had sat down next to him.   
  
Michael himself couldn't stop thinking about the night before; though his memories were somewhat hazy from alcohol, he was about 97% sure it _had_ really happened. Gavin, however, was acting as normal as could be, and Michael just wanted to talk about the stupid kiss and find out exactly what was going on in that brain of Gavin's. Pretending like it hadn't happened was just going to drive him insane.   
  
"Well, what's it say?" Gavin sounded excited, but Michael was nervous about the whole thing. He didn't want to open this note and find out he'd kidnapped Gavin's cousin or something. He tried to voice this to Gavin.   
  
"What? That's bollocks." Gavin shook his head, flashing his teeth in a grin. "'S like Ray said, innit? I won't remember what it was you stole so I have no reason to be mad. Couldn't have been _that_ important if I forgot about it, yeah?"  
  
Still not convinced, Michael reluctantly unfolded the paper. A gasp escaped his lips and he felt Gavin's side against his in order to read the note.   
  
"'Curiosity killed the cat'?" Gavin quoted dubiously. "Do they _have_ to do it in riddles? I mean why not just tell us outright?"  
  
Michael hadn't heard a word. He was swept up in a whirl of memories, though most of the details were fuzzy. All he remembered was coaxing a brown-and-white tabby cat across a road only to see it obliterated by a car.   
  
"I just wanted to pet it," Michael whispered after a few seconds. _Her_. Lloyd. Gavin's cat.   
  
"What?"  
  
"I didn't know you," Michael muttered, still in a state of shock and staring at the paper in his hands. "I was in England for—Fuck, I don't know, must have been vacation, because I was young. Ten. I guess."  
  
"You—Michael, you _remember_?" Looking up, Michael saw Gavin's eyes were wide.   
  
Numb, Michael just continued. "It must have been your cat. I... I just wanted to pet it. Her. I coaxed her across the road and..." He lifted the paper. "Curiosity."  
  
"Lloyd? Wh—?" Gavin stopped mid-sentence, frowning, then his eyes went wider. "That was you?"  
  
"It was an accident—"  
  
"I thought she'd just gotten out," Gavin muttered, then looked up. "But _you_ led her." He didn't sound mad, which was a good sign. He only sounded surprised, like he'd just discovered the plot twist at the end of a movie.   
  
"I'm sorry." Michael kept his voice quiet, because he _was_. He didn't remember much about the circumstance of the accident, but he did remember its aftermath quite clearly. He'd ripped himself away from his mother and ran to the middle of the road; luckily the street was a busy one or he would have been hit himself. It was the first time he'd seen anything dead that wasn't a bug. Bugs also didn't bleed all over the concrete.   
  
Gavin shook his head. "You didn't run her over, did you? It was a long time ago."  
  
"But—we remembered." This suddenly dawned on Michael. "Maybe the amnesia isn't permanent! Maybe our memories are coming back!" Hope flared inside of him for the first time since arriving in this godforsaken place.   
  
"You said you didn't know me." Gavin sounded thoughtful. "You might've. We could've been buds, Michael." The smile in his voice was audible as he nudged Michael lightly.   
  
Michael grinned back; the thought of having friends was quite nice. "Yeah. Seriously, _anything_ could have happened when I was a kid. I could have lived in England my whole life and I wouldn't have known it. Maybe we're even _in_ England right now."  
  
"Boy, do I miss it." Gavin was looking at his hands again and his smile had faded.   
  
"Can't miss what you don't remember," Michael reminded him. "You miss the _thought_ of England, not the memory of it." Without giving Gavin a chance to argue, he stood. "Come on, let's go tell the guys."  
  
Gavin obliged rather complaisantly and followed Michael into the common room; they walked right in on a discussion between Geoff and Jack, while Ryan and Ray looked on.   
  
"Look, all I'm saying is we don't _know_ —" Jack broke off when he noticed the two new arrivals. "Find anything?" He seemed to be seriously pissed off.   
  
Carefully, Michael stepped around the table and took his seat next to Ray, and Gavin sat next to him. Geoff looked none-too-pleased, either, and Michael found himself wondering what he and Jack had been arguing about.   
  
"I found another note: 'Curiosity killed the cat.'" Michael handed it to Geoff, who examined it. "And—"  
  
He'd been about to mention his memories, but Ray interrupted. "All bossman over there's said was something about—" He paused, looking unsure. "—'Death's shadow finds everyone'?"  
  
"'Death shadows us all,'" Geoff supplied, voice low.   
  
"Right." Ray went on. "Whoever's writing these must not know how idiotic we are. We'd never be able to figure these random clues out on our own, especially without any memories."  
  
"Yeah, and Jack's was no help either," Ryan read the paper he held in his hand aloud. "'It takes just a spark to light a flame.' These clues are just getting vaguer and vaguer."  
  
"Wait." Michael was beginning to feel uneasy. He addressed Jack and Geoff: "You don't remember anything?"  
  
"No," Geoff snapped, as though frustrated with the whole thing. "Why, did you?"  
  
The uneasiness crawled beneath Michael's skin as all four men turned their faces towards him. Their expectant looks made him uncomfortable, and he realized he had a decision to make. Either tell the truth and expose himself as an outlier, or lie and remain innocent. Some kind of gut instinct was telling him not to trust anyone, even the only people he had ever interacted with.   
  
Gavin knew, of course, but that couldn't be avoided. Anyway, he had some quality about him that told Michael he could be trusted. Michael tried to convince himself it _wasn't_ because of his own infatuation blinding him, but it didn't really work.   
  
Michael felt it deep in his bones that to tell the truth would be a very bad idea. Besides, he still didn't know if one of these guys was lying to him, or maybe all of them were. He wouldn't know until he got all of his memories back, but until then he'd have to lie.   
  
"Not a thing," Michael lied smoothly, surprising himself with how easily he'd done it.   
  
"But—" Shit. Gavin.   
  
Michael shot the Brit a withering glare, a look that screamed, _Say another word and I'll make it your last._ Gavin closed his mouth.   
  
"What, Gavin?" Ray was peering around Michael, his face betraying his suspicion. "Did _you_ remember something?"  
  
Michael's uneasiness mounted; he was sure now that something wasn't right here. Before Gavin could say something stupid, Michael interrupted. "He just wanted to—Ask about breakfast." He'd blurted out the first words in his brain. "It's already 10, and we're both starving."  
  
"No breakfast, remember?" Geoff himself looked seriously confused by Michael's outburst. "You need your ears cleaned?"  
  
"Must not've heard," Michael muttered, hoping his nervousness could be passed off as disappointment.   
  
Ryan and Jack, as well, were looking at Michael oddly, but it was Ray's stare that set Michael's teeth on edge. It was like the younger man _knew_ Michael had been lying, and he prayed Gavin wouldn't screw this up.   
  
"But I'm starving," whined Gavin, and the tension dissolved instantly. Michael let out a breath; at least Gavin knew when to play along.   
  
"Sorry, bud." Geoff didn't really sound sorry. "Gotta ration the food until we figure this out."  
  
Suddenly an idea occurred to Michael. "Hang on," he began. "Gavin didn't have dinner last night, right? He doesn't even know when the last time he ate was. Let me at least make him something." He glanced to Geoff, hoping that this would work.   
  
"Yeah, whatever, go for it," Geoff agreed, waving a hand. "Just not too much."  
  
Gavin instantly perked up; he probably _was_ starving. "Really?"  
  
" _Yes_ , really," Michael muttered, standing and pulling Gavin to his feet. "Come on, let's go see what's in the pantry. Maybe they gave us crumpets."  
  
"Try not to get any jizz on the cereal!" Ray called as they left, apparently back to his old self.   
  
"So what do we do?" Jack wondered as Michael and Gavin slipped into the pantry, turning to Geoff. "I mean we found the clues and none of us are any closer to figuring this out."  
  
"There could be more," Ray put in, still smiling like they were on some sort of picnic. "In the victims' rooms."  
  
"Fuck," Geoff muttered to himself, then stood again. "All right." He spoke louder. "Pairs again. Ray with me, et cetera, et cetera."  
  
"Ah—" Ray held up a hand. "No need, Geoff. First night here I turned my room inside out looking for any more clues about myself. Place is picked clean."  
  
"Don't need a second pair of eyes? Make sure you didn't miss anything?" Ryan asked, gesturing to Geoff. "Like we said, four eyes are better than two—"  
  
Ray pulled up one corner of his mouth, shaking his head completely nonchalantly. "Nah. Wouldn't want to trouble anyone."  
  
Ryan didn't push the idea, and neither did Geoff, who sat back down looking thrilled about not having to do any work. Ryan and Jack disappeared into the former's room, leaving Ray and Geoff alone at the table.   


* * *

  
Inside the closet, Michael heard Jack's, "So what do we—" before the door closed and any outside sounds were blocked out.   
  
It was pitch black in here, and extremely cramped; usually anyone coming in here for food or supplies made a point of leaving the door open so they could see what they were looking at because Michael was pretty sure there was no light in here, but this place was perfect for them. As far as he knew there wasn't a camera nor a microphone in this tiny space, but he couldn't be sure.   
  
Gavin seemed to have gotten the idea that they weren't in here for breakfast, and cut to the chase. "Why'd you lie?" His breath tickled Michael's nose - that was how close they were standing - and it smelled of toothpaste again. All at once Michael was reminded of the night before and his annoyance flared up again.   
  
Ignoring Gavin's question, Michael demanded, "What the hell was last night all about?"  
  
"Michael, what—?" Unable to see Gavin's face, Michael had to judge the reaction only based on vocal expression and Gavin only sounded confused. This in turn pissed Michael off even further.   
  
"Stop pretending like it didn't happen," Michael snapped. "Normal human beings don't _do_ this kind of shit, they don't make something so fucking intimate and then just don't mention it." There was a pause, during which all Michael could hear was Gavin's deep breathing. "What _are_ we?"  
  
Hands were against his chest and for a split second Michael thought he was about to be kissed again but the hands were there to shove him backwards. Michael's back slammed painfully against the shelves behind him and Gavin was in his face, hissing out his words.   
  
"For your information I only did that because I thought _you_ wanted it too. But oh no, Michael Jones is too good for that!" There was a pause; Michael's mind was whirring because _what_ had made Gavin think that Michael didn't want that kiss? He'd wanted it like the air in his lungs.   
  
"Gavin—" Michael tried, reaching for what he hoped was the younger man's arm. He found it, but Gavin flinched away from the contact.   
  
"Don't, don't, _don't_ you do that!" With every consecutive "don't", Gavin's voice grew louder. "You didn't react, didn't say _anything_ after I pulled my tongue out of your mouth. Yeah, we were both drunk, but so what? You remembered it just fine." Another pause, and afterwards the harsh tone was gone from Gavin's voice. It was only sadness, self-pity, and pain. "Rejection hurts, you know. A whole fucking lot. I didn't say anything about it because I figured that if I didn't mention it I could just pretend it had never happened."  
  
Michael was absolutely blown away. Surprise gave way to guilt almost immediately, but not fast enough. Before he could react the door was pushed open; light flooded in and by the time Michael's eyes adjusted, Gavin was gone.   
  
"No, wait!" Michael mentally kicked himself and started after Gavin, but the Brit was already in his room. The slamming of his door would have been enough to shake the windows, if there had been any. 


	5. Chapter 5

Michael stared across the room at Gavin's closed door. _You fucked up,_  were the only words on his mind.   
  
It was Geoff's whisper that pulled him out of his reverie. "You take him, I'll take Gavin." Michael didn't think that he was meant to hear that but he guessed that "him" meant himself and that he was about to get a Ray-intervention.   
  
There was a scraping of chairs as Geoff and Ray stood to go their separate ways.   
  
Michael paid no heed to what Geoff was doing as Ray approached him, slowly, but with an easy smile on his face. It was that smile that made Michael forget all of his suspicions from earlier; it was that smile that helped him to trust Ray. It was a smile of openness and of truthfulness.   
  
Michael allowed himself to lean against the doorframe of the closet. Ray stopped in front of him. There was a second's hesitation as Ray likely took in Michael's unfocused eyes and the distracted expression on his face.   
  
"Gonna guess you two didn't get in a disagreement over which cereal you wanted, huh?" Typical Ray: humour was his vice. Michael found it welcoming.   
  
"Not exactly." Michael found it surprising how faraway his voice sounded. All he wanted to do was go after Gavin and explain himself. But Gavin was mad at him, and Geoff had already slipped inside the room.   
  
"You wanna talk about it?" Ray looked at Michael with those soft eyes and he _did_  want to talk about it. He wanted to spill everything to Ray if only to tell _someone_.   
  
But a knot twisted inside his stomach when Michael opened his mouth. It was pain, and he wanted to avoid it. Talking about the pain would not help him avoid it. It was best to forget and maybe it would go away, at least until he could actually do something about it.   
  
"Not really," Michael muttered, casting his eyes to the ground. Ray's socks were bright red, peeking out under the black of his jeans.   
  
"Okay." Silence settled for a moment, and Michael was glad Ray didn't pry. "You want some advice?"  
  
Michael raised his eyes incredulously. "Your memory is five days old; where would you pull advice from?"  
  
Ray cracked a smile. "Just listen, 'kay?   
  
"It's always okay to try dangerous shit. You never know what you'll miss by doing nothing."  
  
Michael was taken aback for a second, until dubiousness sparked inside of him. "Life isn't a video game, though. I can't start over if I fuck up."  
  
Ray snapped his fingers, feigning disappointment. "Well, y'know, worth a try. We could always whack Gavin over the head and make him lose his memory again."  
  
Michael laughed, and felt his mood lift slightly.   
  


* * *

  
Inside his room, Gavin stared at the floor as he sat perched on the end of his bed. Who did Michael think he was? The pain still twisted Gavin's heart as he thought about the whole situation; what _was_  it about Michael that made him so perfect? It wasn't fair for one man to be so beautiful and yet so dangerous at the same time.   
  
Gavin moaned softly and rested his face in his hands, trying to block out his thoughts. He was an idiot for thinking Michael would ever like _him_. He, Gavin, who hated everything about himself right from the get-go, from the first time he'd seen himself in the mirror, from the first time he'd _listened_  to his own brain. Its thoughts were borderline psychopathic.   
  
 _He doesn't care he never cared he's probably glad you left he's not gonna miss you_  no one _would miss you because no one cares—_  
  
There was a soft knock on his door. "Go away," Gavin deadpanned, expecting Michael. He didn't want such a perfect thing exposed to poison.   
  
"Gavin?" Surprised, Gavin sat up; that was Geoff's voice. Not what he'd been expecting. "Can I come in?"  
  
Letting out a deep sigh, Gavin tipped his head back and closed his eyes. "Yeah," he told the ceiling.   
  
The door creaked as it opened and Geoff closed it behind him, a detail Gavin was glad of, because it meant Michael wouldn't see him like this. If Michael ever found out how Gavin's brain worked he would run as far away as he could in the opposite direction. Which wasn't much considering the size of the flat, but still. It was the idea of it that counted.   
  
The mattress dipped as Geoff took a seat next to him. Silence stretched until, finally, Geoff spoke. "Girl problems, huh?"  
  
Gavin's eyes snapped open and he turned to face Geoff incredulously. "He's not—" He began to defend himself until he saw the slight smirk on Geoff's face.   
  
"Relax, kid, I'm not here to interrogate you." Geoff's tone was calm, more paternal than anything, and despite never having a sober conversation with the man Gavin felt himself relaxing. "You can tell me if you want to, but I won't force you to."  
  
 _Weak weak you're so weak he does_  not _care no one cares he's only being nice doing his duty—_  
  
Breathing out slowly, Gavin tried to focus on Geoff and not whatever his brain was doing. His cockiness and confidence from the night before were only caused by one thing: alcohol. Without liquid courage running through him Gavin felt stupid, insecure, and weak. And his brain wasn't really helping matters.   
  
The fear of rejection was so deeply seated in Gavin that he was sure it was some sort of instinctual survival mechanism. If he never tried anything he'd never have to worry about being shot down. The alcohol had overridden this instinct, because _God_  had he wanted Michael. Still wanted him.   
  
Geoff was still watching him, and Gavin knew he owed the man some sort of explanation. After all, he, Gavin, had shown up less than twelve hours ago and already everything had gone to shit.   
  
 _This is all your fault why hadn't you just kept your mouth shut why hadn't you just kept your fucking lips to yourself God you are so pathetic if you weren't here Michael wouldn't have to worry—_  
  
"I, uh—" Gavin began, turning his face towards his hands. "We kissed. Well, I mostly kissed him." Looking up, he tried to judge a reaction from Geoff's face, but it was neutral. Neutrality was better than anger or disgust. It helped Gavin to continue.   
  
"I dunno, I just feel really stupid for all of it," Gavin went on. "I made a move and what if he didn't want me to?"  
  
There was a second's pause before Geoff broke into a wide grin, a slight chuckle escaping as he patted Gavin on the back.   
  
Gavin was incredulous. "And _what_  are you so smiley about?" Geoff was making him feel like his problems were something to be laughed at. Like they didn't matter.   
  
"Gavin," Geoff said once he'd stopped laughing. "That boy was all _over_  you last night, from what I'd seen. He pulled you into his room, for Christ's sake!"  
  
Gavin frowned. "But that was for the mirror..."  
  
Geoff let out another laugh, and the simple sound of it helped Gavin to relax. "Do you honestly think that's why he took you in there? Jesus, I haven't seen anyone this oblivious since—since ever, I guess. For fuck's sake, dude." Geoff stood and took Gavin by the elbow, pulling him to his feet. "Give him a chance to talk. You'll see."  
  
Gavin let Geoff lead him to the door, but before he opened it he spoke. "Wait. Geoff?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Geoff beamed. "No problem." Gavin grinned back and was about to open the door when a soft knocking echoed against it.   
  
"Gav?"  
  


* * *

  
"I really should go in there," Michael mused.   
  
Ray didn't seem to be expecting this; he raised his hands like he wanted to stop Michael. "Maybe that isn't such a good idea. He _did_  seem pissed." There was an obvious question under his words as Ray raised an eyebrow.   
  
"No no, I'll go." Michael brushed Ray's words off. "I can explain myself." He pushed himself off the doorframe and made to step around Ray.   
  
Apparently this wasn't what Ray wanted. The younger man put his hands on Michael's chest and pushed him against the wall, crowding Michael's space and pressing far too close for his liking.   
  
"Come on, am I not good enough?" Ray was still smiling even as Michael tried to shove away. It was downright creepy.   
  
"Ray, what the hell?" Michael grasped the wrists that held him in place and tried to push them away, but Ray wouldn't budge. His skinniness held surprising strength.   
  
"I've been your friend ever since you got here." Though they were close to the same height, Ray seemed to grow three inches as he held Michael down. "Just... stay, okay?" His tone was calm, a hint of pleading, and yet the force with which he pressed Michael to the wall suggested the complete opposite.   
  
Deciding it would do him no good to fight, Michael relaxed against Ray's touch. "Yeah. Okay." His only guess was that Ray just wanted Michael to stay; Ray wasn't someone he'd associate with violence or anything of the like, so no alarm bells went off in his head. He felt fine pinned like this, because there was no immediate threat.   
  
Ray brightened, though he didn't let up his grip. "Great!" A smile lit up his features as his fingertips tapped lightly against Michael's collarbone. They were standing only a few inches apart, and Michael shifted slightly.   
  
"Ray?" Déjà vu was not a sensation he was familiar with, what with the amnesia and all, but Michael definitely felt it now.   
  
"Hmm?" Ray's own eyes were half-closed as he surveyed Michael. Under his gaze Michael felt like a piece of meat.   
  
"What're you doing?" Michael tried to press his head back against the wall as Ray moved impossibly closer. This felt wrong.   
  
"Something I should have done a long time ago," Ray muttered, a faint smile still on his lips. Panic erupted inside of Michael, though it wasn't the giddy kind of panic of the night before. He wanted _out_.  
  
"Ray—" Michael tried to reason but Ray's lips were on his own and he gasped against the feel of them. This was wrong. This wasn't _Gavin_.  
  
Motivated by a desire to escape, Michael shoved back against Ray. The younger man stumbled back a few steps, and that was enough.   
  
"I'm sorry," Michael managed, because the look on Ray's face was enough to start guilt flooding through his system.  
  
He sidestepped past Ray, hoping that avoidance would be best, and knocked on Gavin's door. "Gav?" He could feel and taste Ray's lips on his own and for some reason it made him want to explain himself to Gavin for the night before. Maybe if Ray saw the two of them together it would make everything better.   
  
There was no answer, and Michael grew desperate. "Look, I'm sorry, and you're probably still mad at me but I just want to talk." Not caring who heard, he continued. "I was a dick about the whole thing but I wasn't rejecting you! I was just really nervous because you're awesome and, well, I'm _me_  and I wouldn't expect anyone as great as you to go for a guy like me—"  
  
Michael was about to continue but all at once the door opened and Gavin stood there with a tiny smile on his face. It looked like he wanted to say something but there was a shuffling behind him as Geoff pushed his way out of Gavin's room.   
  
"Don't mind me, just passing through," Geoff muttered, though there was a smile on his face, and Michael was sure he'd knocked Gavin closer when he passed. Michael couldn't imagine what Ray was doing but honestly he didn't care; it was as though the reunion had reminded him of how absolutely perfect Gavin's eyes were up close.   
  
"Michael..." Gavin began, his voice shaking slightly as nerves that Michael hadn't been expecting showed. Michael shook his head, and Gavin stopped talking.   
  
"Lemme just show you," Michael murmured, reaching up to lock his arms around the back of Gavin's neck. Something like panic showed as Gavin's eyes widened, but he still smiled crookedly and Michael felt the warmth as Gavin's hands came to rest on his lower back.   
  
"Well, get showing," Gavin muttered, his face centimetres away. Michael smirked and in response closed his eyes to press a soft kiss to Gavin's lips.   
  
This time around was so much better; without the smell of Scotch swirling around him and inhibiting his brain, Michael could really feel Gavin's lips, warm against his own. As they responded a deep-seated joy rose up inside Michael's chest, causing him to smile into the kiss. Gavin pressed his body closer and all at once Michael knew that _this_  was right. This was perfect.   
  
They broke apart after only a few seconds, but stayed close. Gavin rested his forehead against Michael's and Michael felt more than heard his quiet laugh.   
  
"Much better," Gavin whispered.   
  
Michael broke into a wide smile, opening his eyes to find Gavin staring back. Green filled his vision and happiness soared inside of him.   
  
"Hey, Geoff?" Michael asked loudly, not daring to take his eyes away from Gavin's.   
  
There was a chuckle from about ten feet behind him. "What's up?"  
  
"How would you feel about a break from clue-hunting for a bit?" One of Michael's hands drew up to play with the hair on the back of Gavin's head, and the Brit giggled softly.  
  
The smile was evident in Geoff's voice as he responded. "I'm sure we could spare some time."  
  
Michael bumped his forehead against Gavin's, pushing him backwards into the bedroom. "Come on."   
  
"Whoopde-fucking-do," Ray muttered, which Michael ignored as he kicked the door closed. He wasn't about to let anything ruin this.   
  
"Hang on," Gavin whispered, disentangling himself from Michael to reopen the door and stick his head out. "Geoff, maybe you guys could have a Halo tournament or something. With the volume nice and loud."  
  
Michael grinned wide as he heard a, "You bet." Gavin closed the door with a click and finally they were alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're all teenagers the lot of them
> 
> also next chapter i have to change the rating to explicit so loOK FORWARD TO THAT!
> 
> if you know what i'm saying


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so now I know that this is gonna be 9 chapters, I'm almost done 9!!!
> 
> but yeah i'll stop talking now and let you get to your smut
> 
> Also I apologize for how shitty it is bye

"Did you really mean what you said?" Gavin asked as he turned to Michael. None of the elation had disappeared from either of their faces; the three feet apart they stood felt like miles to Michael.  
  
"'Course I did. You're my boy."  
  
Gavin's face positively lit up when he heard this; suddenly it occurred to Michael that he should mention what had happened with Ray. But Gavin stood in front of him and that could wait until later.   
  
Michael let out a short laugh as he pointed to Gavin's chest. "You're still in your pyjamas."  
  
Gavin raised his eyebrows. "Let's change that, yeah?" Then he was stepping forward and Michael met him halfway.   
  
Their lips crashed together with fervour, all of the earlier chasteness gone completely. There was desire radiating from both of them, because who _knew_  when the last time either of them had actually done this? It could have been weeks, months, or years, but all Michael knew was that he _needed_  this, and there was no one he'd rather be with.   
  
Teeth clicked loudly until each learned the other's rhythm and soon they were moving in time. Michael felt fingers in his hair at the same time a tongue swept in his mouth. He gripped Gavin closer as pure instinctual _need_  drove him to nip at Gavin's lower lip. This drew a groan out of Gavin's mouth; Michael shuddered as heat pooled in his lower abdomen.   
  
"Change it, you pleb," Gavin growled against Michael's lips. It took a good two seconds before he could register what Gavin was talking about.  
  
Opening his eyes, Michael breathed out and ducked his head to plant tiny kisses on the side of Gavin's neck. With his hands he crept under the material of Gavin's t-shirt, drawing back slightly as the shirt came over the Brit's head.   
  
Michael blinked, then giggled. "You're like a carpet." He traced his fingers through the abundance of hair on Gavin's chest.   
  
Gavin huffed out air, his lips glistening, and dropped his hands to Michael's shoulders.   
  
Guessing by Gavin's expression that he was insecure about the whole thing, Michael smiled easily. "Come on. I like it." With that, Michael swung Gavin around and pushed him back onto the bed with his body.   
  
Gavin laughed as his back hit the sheets, sliding his hands down Michael's chest. His cheeks were slightly flushed and Michael leaned down to trail kisses down his jaw. The stubble tickled his lips but it was worth it for the small intake of air he heard next to his ear, and Gavin's hands were all over him again.   
  
Fingers slid under the hem of his shirt. Gavin's hands were warm on his skin and Michael felt fabric disappearing as Gavin drew his shirt up towards his head. Michael broke away for a second to allow Gavin to pull the shirt away, then pressed back down as Gavin tossed the article somewhere, Michael didn't care where.   
  
"Ohh Michael, you're so pale," Gavin murmured and Michael looked down. With the contrast between their skin tones, Gavin's tanned chest only made Michael look even whiter, but he laughed all the same.   
  
"Mm. Shut up." Michael pressed his hands flat against the mattress on either side of Gavin's head as he leaned down to take Gavin in another kiss, finding he'd missed the taste for the minute they'd been apart.   
  
He felt Gavin's hands exploring his back and Michael did some exploring of his own; he swept his tongue along the inside of Gavin's mouth, groaning softly as Gavin's hands found his ass and gripped. His own hands itched to feel Gavin's skin, but he'd have to make do with pressing their chests flush together. The heat radiating from Gavin's body was absolutely delicious, and Michael attacked his mouth with renewed force.   
  
The only sounds were of lips parting and rejoining until one of Gavin's hands dropped to Michael's front, slipping between them to pop Michael's button. Looked like Gavin was impatient.   
  
"Shit," Michael breathed, parting from Gavin to stand shakily, fingers fumbling as he attempted to undo his zipper. Suddenly Gavin was in front of him, his warm hands covering Michael's trembling ones.   
  
"Allow me," Gavin offered. His voice was languid and husky.   
  
Michael nearly felt his knees give out as Gavin's fingers brushed against the growing hardness in his pants. Gavin took his time with the zipper as Michael gripped at his shoulders, needing some support, until Michael stood nude with his jeans and boxers around his ankles.   
  
Cheeks flushed, Gavin broke into a small grin as he looked down at Michael's erection. Michael felt exposed, Gavin's eyes travelling down the length of his body, and he tugged forlornly at the elastic of Gavin's pyjamas.   
  
"The camera," Gavin murmured, nodding to it over Michael's shoulder. Michael hoped whoever was watching it had a good view of his ass.   
  
"Here." With one movement, Michael reached down and scooped up his own t-shirt, then threw it so it draped over the camera. Not much he could do about the microphone, though, since he didn't know where it was.   
  
"Now we're alone," Michael said, turning back to Gavin. He got a lopsided grin in response.   
  
Deciding to be quick about this, Michael crouched awkwardly and drew Gavin's pants down and holy _shit_  there was a penis staring him in the face. Michael felt breathless at the sight of it; it was the first one he had seen besides his own. Gavin himself had quite an abundance of pubic hair and a tummy carpet to go with the one on his chest.   
  
Hesitantly, Michael stood. "I—I have no idea what I'm doing," he admitted lamely.   
  
Gavin laughed loudly, a wonderful sound that set Michael blushing again. "Let me." Their roles were reversed as Michael sat back against the headboard with Gavin hovering over him.   
  
Michael squirmed uncomfortably under Gavin's gaze as the younger man looked him over with a sort of Christmas-hath-come-early expression on his face. "C'mere," Michael muttered, reaching up to take the back of Gavin's neck and pull him closer into a kiss. There was a soft moan against his lips and Michael brought his legs up to wrap around Gavin's midsection.   
  
Michael's breath quickened as Gavin's tongue once again found a home in his mouth. It was absolutely wonderful, the way his skin tingled anywhere they made contact.   
  
"Shit," Gavin cursed against Michael's lips. "No condoms, no lube."  
  
Michael's eyes opened slowly and he grinned. "Nu-uh. Nightstand, top drawer." He'd been hoping that Gavin's room was the same as his own and it turned out he was not disappointed as Gavin sat up with a strip of condoms and a small bottle of lube.   
  
"They really thought of everything, huh?" Gavin asked incredulously, the grin on his face widening as he eyed his treasures.   
  
"Nngh—Get on with it." Michael rutted his hips forward impatiently, his own neglected cock throbbing with every pulse of his heart.   
  
Laying the condoms aside, Gavin slicked up his fingers with lube and leaned over Michael until their noses practically touched. "Ready?" Gavin whispered, concern evident on his face.   
  
"Ready," Michael confirmed. A single finger forced its way inside of him and he gasped sharply, back arching automatically to get away from the intrusion. Gavin kissed away the uncomfortable feeling, however, and Michael relaxed slightly.   
  
Gavin took his time, which Michael was extremely grateful for, stopping to add more lubrication twice until both their bodies were slick with sweat. The only sounds were Michael's occasional moans or sounds of discomfort and Gavin's ragged breathing.   
  
"Shh, Michael, shh," Gavin whispered soothingly as a third finger joined the second he'd added. Michael let out a strangled groan; he had no idea _how_  anything bigger than this was ever going to fit inside of him.   
  
"God, Michael, you're so perfect," Gavin cooed before swallowing Michael's gasps in a kiss. The drive had been mounting inside of Gavin, Michael could tell, and the younger man seemed impatient.   
  
"I—" Michael broke off as Gavin's fingers flexed and hit some area of extreme pleasure inside of him. He threw his head back, gripping Gavin for support, as every muscle in his body shuddered.   
  
"Holy shit," he gasped as the pleasure passed but _God_  did he want more.   
  
"Mmm," Gavin hummed, kissing at Michael's exposed neck once. "You ready?" His breath was hot on Michael's skin.  
  
"Oh my God," Michael breathed, lowering his head and allowing Gavin's forehead to meet his own. He stayed like that for a moment, then leaned back. "Definitely."  
  
The fingers were removed, leaving Michael feeling stretched and empty. Gavin leaned away to rip open a condom before rolling it on between Michael's legs, which still wrapped around him, bent at the knee to spread them apart.  
  
"Ready," Michael reassured Gavin as he hesitated. Gavin nodded and leaned forward again.   
  
The tip of Gavin's cock nudging against Michael felt gargantuan compared to his fingers and Michael was halfway to yelling, "Stop!" But although it hurt like hell at first it was worth everything to feel that undeniable pleasure of Gavin brushing his prostate.   
  
Michael's back arched, and he let out a shaky breath.   
  
"You good?" Gavin muttered in his ear, and Michael tightened his grip around the younger man's shoulders.   
  
" _So_  good," Michael breathed, throwing his head forward as Gavin drew out slowly. This close, the bridge of his nose resting on Gavin's shoulder, Michael could smell the sex that clouded around them. Underneath it all was a beautiful smell, of warmth and safety and just _Gavin_.  
  
Stretched enough, it hurt less as Gavin pushed inside of him again. Michael was even brave enough to push himself down on Gavin, drawing a collective moan out of both of them.   
  
" _God_ , Gavin, faster," Michael hissed, and Gavin was too happy to obey. They worked a rhythm, Michael's hips rocking in time with Gavin's thrusts. Gavin made barely any noise while Michael himself gasped and moaned, panted and pleaded.   
  
" _More_ —fuck!" Michael cried out as Gavin, again, obliged. The man was positively animalistic in his motions. He rocked Michael back into the headboard, which banged against the wall in a way Michael was fairly sure no amount of Halo could drown out.   
  
"Gavin, shit, the other guys—" Michael began, his voice breathless.   
  
"Don't care," Gavin growled, pushing impossibly faster, pulling out almost completely and thrusting himself back in. The increased range meant that the jerks to Michael's prostate were getting stronger and stronger, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer.   
  
Heat pooled around his groin, and with one final thrust from Gavin, Michael was completely gone. Stars erupted in front of his eyes as his hips canted forward once, twice, maybe more. The release was what he could only describe as _absolutely fucking perfect_ , as pleasure seared white-hot through his entire body.   
  
Gavin followed him over the edge not long after, a few involuntary jerks of the hips Michael's only indication; Gavin still made no noise.   
  
Heavy breathing and heated skin was Michael's entire world for a few precious seconds until Gavin pulled away, presumably to take off the condom. Michael didn't want to open his eyes to check.   
  
Lips pressed against his own and then were gone again. Michael peeled his eyes open and grinned tiredly at Gavin's face. "Hey."  
  
"Hey," Gavin murmured, bumping his forehead against Michael's. "That was brilliant."  
  
"Mmph, you're welcome." Michael's eyes closed again, every muscle in his body utterly worn out. "Now shh."  
  
"Shower first, then sleep," a quiet voice told him, and Michael groaned. Hands grasped his elbows and sat him upright. Michael again forced his eyes open to find Gavin kneeling in front of him with a fond smile on his face.   
  
"What're you so happy about?" Michael grumbled, untangling himself from Gavin.   
  
Gavin giggled softly. "You're so cute when you're sleepy."   
  
Fuzzy happiness warmed Michael from the inside out. All at once he didn't care about not having a memory, nor about getting it back. The only thing he cared about crouched in front of him, and that was more than enough to get Michael on his feet.   
  
Well, almost. He tried to stand, but his legs felt like rubber. Gavin, suddenly beside him, caught him by the elbow before Michael could fall on his face. Trying to shake off his tiredness, Michael allowed himself to be led into Gavin's bathroom. He spotted Gavin toss the used condom in the garbage.   
  
Gavin had been right; the rooms were exactly the same. Down to every detail, this bathroom was an exact copy of the one Michael had next door.   
  
The light in here was brighter and more artificial than in the bedroom. Still painfully aware of the fact that he was completely nude, Michael felt an instinctual reaction to cover up. It wasn't so much for Gavin as it was for the camera creepily watching them on the wall above the toilet.   
  
"C'mon, love," Gavin murmured, shooting Michael a gentle smile that still gave the older man butterflies.   
  
It was a short shower, but Michael nearly fell over three times, either from weakness in his legs or sheer exhaustion. They stood together under the searing water and washed each other of sweat and other bodily fluids. Even this small action, the scrubbing of a loofah over Gavin's body as Gavin returned the favour, made Michael smile. It was a wondrous thing, to have another person to love.   
  
Standing there, warm water cascading all around them and revelling in the lazy way with which they moved, Michael marvelled at the little things. Only twenty-four hours ago, he had resigned himself to a life stuck here with no memory, without a single clue about what was going on outside the walls of the apartment. And yet now here he was, all his worries melting away with the hot water, and Michael wondered if this was real. He wondered how anything so perfect could happen to someone as ordinary as him. Sure, the circumstances under which he and Gavin had met hadn't exactly been ideal ones, but what did that matter?  
  
Just to prove a point to himself, Michael abandoned the loofah and wrapped his arms around Gavin's waist, getting soap all over his own chest. Although the wet skin didn't smell like anything, the scent of the hotel-grade soap swirled around them like a mediocre cloud.   
  
After about half a second Gavin's hands found his lower back. "Hey," Gavin murmured in Michael's ear. "Faster we finish this, faster we sleep."  
  
Michael hummed softly in acknowledgement. "I know. I just love you, that's all."  
  
There was a long pause, and Michael broke away to look at Gavin's face, expecting resentment or even panic, but he found a stunned smile instead. "Gavin?" Michael asked, wondering if he'd broken him.   
  
Gavin pulled him into a quick kiss, soft and warm; when their faces were inches apart that giddy smile was back. "I love you too, my little Michael."  
  


* * *

  
"Sleep now?" Michael asked softly after they'd dried off sufficiently.   
  
Gavin didn't answer for a few seconds. He gazed down fondly, brushing Michael's still-wet hair out of his eyes. "You wore contacts today," he mused for seemingly no reason.   
  
The only difference between Gavin's bathroom and his own was that Michael's held a spare pair of glasses and two pairs of contacts. How they found out his exact prescription, Michael didn't know, but he supposed he'd given it to them before his memory was wiped.   
  
Thinking about the before just made Michael's head hurt. "Thanks for noticing," Michael joked, smirking. "Don't change the subject, dickwad."  
  
Gavin laughed quietly, then wrapped an arm around Michael's torso and led him from the bathroom. "Yeah, Michael, sleep now."  
  
"Finally," Michael murmured, crawling under the sheets. His entire body was completely worn out, and the shower had done nothing to wake him up.   
  
"Did I fuck your brains out?" Gavin asked nonchalantly as he joined Michael, though there was a hint of drowsiness in his voice.   
  
"Yes, Gavin, you did very good." Michael wrapped his arms around Gavin's ribs, smiling against the carpet. Gavin put off heat like a furnace and it was the equivalent of being wrapped in a cocoon of warmth.   
  
He felt an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. "G'night, my little Michael," Gavin whispered in his ear, then Michael was out like a light. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're so cute it's sickening


	7. Chapter 7

When Michael woke, it was because of cold. He frowned and stretched his hands across the mattress but found nothing. He peeled open his eyes, already in a pissy mood because he'd forgotten to take his contacts out and now his eyes itched.   
  
The light in the room was still on, though it had been dimmed. Sounds of four highly competitive guys playing Xbox drifted through the thin walls, and it was oddly comforting to hear Geoff yelling, "Oh, you cocksucker!"  
  
The room was empty, no Gavin to be found, and that stung a bit. Michael sat up, nearly ready to leave and give Gavin a piece of his mind, but the bathroom door opened. He hadn't even noticed it was closed.   
  
"Bloody hell, I was only gone for thirty seconds," Gavin remarked when he saw Michael sitting up. His hair was mussed, and he wore only boxers. "Miss me that much?"  
  
Michael feigned grouchiness, though his mood lifted tremendously when he determined that Gavin had, in fact, not left him.   
  
"It was cold," he complained.   
  
"Well, here, I'm comin' back." Gavin stepped closer, but Michael shrugged and shook his head.   
  
"Nah, I'm already up." It was true; the initial panic that he'd been abandoned had scared Michael into wakefulness, and he wondered how much time had passed. He threw the sheets off and stood, finding with relief that his legs had regained their strength and he could stand on his own. Still a bit sore, though.  
  
"I gotta pee anyway." Michael collected his boxers and jeans, pulling them on, smirking when he realized his shirt still hung over the camera. He was enjoying the privacy.   
  
On his way past Gavin, _someone_  felt it necessary to pinch his ass. Michael retaliated with a slap to the back of Gavin's head, then closed the door before it could escalate.   
  
"Aw, Michael, that's not fair!" Gavin's muffled voice echoed through the door.   
  
"Yeah, well, keep your hands to yourself," Michael called back.   
  
"Not what you were saying a few hours ago—"  
  
"Oh, shut your mouth." Michael grinned towards the door, like Gavin could somehow see the smile through the wood.   
  
After finishing his business and flushing the toilet, Michael sidestepped and almost laughed aloud at how he looked in the mirror. Sleeping with wet hair was never a good idea, especially for someone with curls like his own. This time was no exception; one side of his hair was completely flat from where he'd slept on it, and the other stuck up. He was surprised Gavin hadn't burst out laughing when he'd first seen it.   
  
Michael messed with his hair for a bit until he was satisfied. As he brought his hand down he knocked Gavin's tube of toothpaste onto the ground between the counter and the toilet. Grumbling to himself, Michael got on his hands and knees to reach between, straining his arm. He felt around for a bit until his fingers brushed—something.   
  
Michael frowned. _That's not toothpaste._  He withdrew his arm and leaned in to look. On the side of the toilet, invisible to anyone who wasn't looking for it, was a small button. It was the same white as the floor and the toilet, so well camouflaged that Michael knew he wouldn't have seen it if he didn't know exactly where it was.   
  
He of all people would be familiar with _curiosity killed the cat_ , but Michael decided it would drive him insane not knowing. Before he could change his mind he leaned in and pressed down on the button.   
  
There was a click, then a mechanical noise to his left, in the direction of Gavin's bedroom. Michael scrambled to his feet then swung open the bathroom door to find out what exactly this button did.   
  
All he found was Gavin, dressed and sitting on the bed. "Hey, so, y'know, I was thinking—" Gavin began, but Michael was determined. This was possibly the only way out of here, and he needed to know what had just happened.   
  
"Hold that thought," Michael interrupted, standing in front of the dresser; the noise had come from here, he was sure of it.   
  
"Michael, what did my chest of drawers ever do to you?" Gavin asked as Michael began shoving it to the side. The dresser was flush against the corner, and with the way the apartment was laid out, there should have only been air behind the wall the bed was against. Or that's what he thought.   
  
"Holy shit," Michael breathed. For beside the dresser was a gaping rectangular hole in the wall, four feet tall, exposed when a section of the wall disconnected and slid to the side. Light spilled in, much brighter than the ones in the room, so Michael couldn't see much past the hole, but he'd _found_  it.   
  
"Gavin, this is it!" Michael turned to Gavin, who sat on the edge of the bed looking stunned. "We can finally figure out what the fuck is going on!"  
  
"D'you really think we should go in there?" Gavin asked nervously, shifting where he sat. "I mean what if it's dangerous?"  
  
"Gavin." Michael straightened up, then went to retrieve his shirt, talking in what he hoped was a reassuring tone the whole way. "So you get dropped here, with no way out and no memory—" He tugged his shirt off the camera, pulling it over his head. When he was clear of the fabric he shot Gavin a dubious look. "—and you're telling me you don't want to get the bastards responsible?"  
  
"I just don't want to go in there and have something happen to you," Gavin admitted, staring at his hands. Michael was floored; having someone who cared enough to worry about him was something he had never experienced.   
  
"It'll be fine," Michael promised, crossing the room to lay a hand on Gavin's shoulder. The younger man looked up at his touch. "Let's go get 'em."  
  
Gavin nodded and stood, though he did still look nervous. Michael was gripped by a fierce protectiveness as he led Gavin into the hole; no way was he going to let _anything_  happen to this man.   
  
The hole opened up into a passageway, so brightly lit that it took Michael's eyes a few seconds to adjust. The entire hall was forty square feet of white: floors, walls, and ceiling, which only served to accentuate the bright lighting. Still no windows, which was unbelievably frustrating. There was also no cameras, the only plus. To their left was a dead end; to the right the passage stretched about as long as the common room.   
  
"It must go to everyone's room." Gavin voiced what Michael had been thinking. Behind him the grey sliding door read "Free".  
  
"But what's at the end?" Michael's question went unanswered. Instead they followed the passage, past Jones, Narvaez, Haywood, Pattillo, and Ramsey, all grey and four feet tall.   
  
In front of them stood a metal door, seven feet tall compared to the eight of the ceiling. This door, however, was firmly locked. A keypad guarded the handle, and Michael doubted he'd be able to guess the combination.   
  
"Come on," Gavin said urgently, tugging slightly on Michael's elbow. "We need to tell everyone else about this. Maybe one of them knows how to open it."  
  
"Hang on." Michael held up a hand. "You know why I didn't tell them about our memories coming back? It was exactly for this reason. We don't know who we can trust."  
  
"Oh." Gavin paused, then broke into a smile. "Michael Jones, you are too suspicious for your own good."  
  
Michael laughed. "Yeah, well, someone's gotta be. Or else you'd probably be dead."  
  
Gavin looked indignant. "Would not!" There was a pause, during which Michael just raised his eyebrows. Gavin abruptly changed the subject.   
  
"Can we at least go back to my room? I feel like we're gonna get stuck in here if my door closes." Gavin looked around. "Like Ray said, 'No way in, no way out,' yeah? This place freaks me out."  
  
Michael agreed and soon they were walking the seventy or so feet back to Gavin's room. They'd barely taken three steps when Michael felt a hand slide into his own, soft and warm. He looked down at Gavin's fingers between his own, the tan and white contrasting like ripples in desert sand, then up at Gavin's face. The younger man looked no different, though he did have a small smile and a hint of pink dusting his cheeks. They were _exactly_  like teenagers, the both of them.   
  
Michael said nothing, only squeezed. He got one in return. A smile turned up the corners of his mouth of its own accord.   
  
Ducking under the small entrance, Michael pulled Gavin into the bedroom. It was silent. Immediately, unease settled over him and he gripped Gavin's hand tighter by instinct.   
  
"Michael, what's—?" Gavin asked, in a voice that was of normal volume but felt far too loud in this quiet.   
  
"Shh-sh." Michael hushed Gavin quickly, lowering his own voice to a whisper. "Earlier all we could hear was those four—" He jerked his thumb towards the door. "—screaming at each other. Now nothing."  
  
"Maybe they're between games," Gavin breathed in response, though his eyes were wide and fearful.   
  
"Maybe." But Michael wasn't convinced, of course, and better safe than sorry. Without saying anything more, he simply led Gavin to the door and slid back the deadbolt.   
  
Geoff, Ryan, and Jack sat on the sofa with their backs to Michael, though all three turned abruptly when they heard the door opening. The TV had been shut off. Ray stood in front of it, holding some small cylindrical device in one hand.   
  
"Oh, how nice of you to join us," Ray said brightly when he'd noticed them. "Come on, have a seat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S ALL KICKING OFF


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this took forever i'm really sorry... i also apologize for how little fucking sense it makes like wow where do i come up with this shit

Ray watched the two of them expectantly, that smile still on his face. With one last glance at Gavin, Michael edged his way over to the love seat. There was no way he was letting go of Gavin's hand now, especially not after seeing the looks of terror on the gents' faces.   
  
"It was you," Michael said slowly once they'd sat. "It was you the whole time." Suddenly everything was falling into place; the notes and food that suddenly appeared, why Ray had been so suspicious of Michael's lie, why the passageway linked to each of their rooms. The door at the end of the hall no doubt led into some sort of base of operations, to which Ray would escape every night for supplies and to go over that day's footage.   
  
"And lover boy finally figures it out!" Ray still smiled like they were discussing a movie. "You know, you really shouldn't have opened that passage. This could have ended so much easier."  
  
"How did you—?" Michael began hotly, then stopped. "The cameras. Holy _shit_." He was so _stupid_. What other reason for cameras than to keep an eye on them?  
  
"You always were the smartest of the bunch." Ray smirked. "God knows _this_  idiot—" He gestured to Gavin. "—would never have figured it out."  
  
Michael saw red. "You little shit—" On his feet before he'd realized it, Michael was about to lunge for Ray when the younger man raised his right hand, in which he gripped the cylindrical object.   
  
"Ah, ah, ah," Ray taunted, though he did take a step back. "Not so fast." He waggled the object a bit for effect.   
  
"Just do what he says," Geoff burst out. His hands were clenched into fists on his knees, the tattooed skin rippling.   
  
"He's a—he's a fucking psychopath," Geoff spat out. "Sit down before you get us all into shit."  
  
"Watch what you say." Ray's face had darkened, and he gestured with the object like it was a gun. "Wouldn't want me using this, would you?"  
  
Slowly, Michael sank back into his seat, hands shaking. Any number of possibilities were swirling around in his mind; was that object a bomb? What could Ray possibly have to make three men twice his size look so deathly afraid?  
  
Ray caught Michael staring. "Oh, I forgot. Where are my manners?" He raised the object, fingers curled around it and thumb circling over a red button on the top. "When we wiped your memories we installed a sort of fail-safe, in case something like this were to happen. One push of this button and _everything_  is gone again. Just like that."  
  
This was real. This was happening.   
  
"Who the hell is 'we'?" Michael asked angrily, sick and tired of being left in the dark. "What _is_  this place?"  
  
"Ah." The smile was back on Ray's face. "Story time. Was wondering when one of you would ask. Get ready kids, this is a good one.  
  
"For starters, it isn't really 2013. Man, how I wish it was. You guys don't know how lucky you are, having your memories wiped." Ray leaned back against the stand the TV sat on, perched on the edge.   
  
"Hang on—" Ryan began, looking confused, but Ray shot him a glare.   
  
"Do me a favour and save the questions, mkay?"   
  
Ryan nodded and Ray beamed. "Good. Carrying on...  
  
"It's actually 2019. We pushed your birthdays back six years to make you believe. That's why we needed the 360s. _Those_  were hard to get a hold of, oh man, what with Microsoft going under and all. Apparently economic collapse isn't too good on the electronics market.   
  
"Y'see, at the end of 2013, some country in the Middle East grew impatient. Could never remember if it was Iraq or Iran, but it doesn't really matter now, does it?" That wicked smile was back, and Michael shivered involuntarily.   
  
"Long story short," Ray went on, "There were nukes. A lot of them. Enough to cause World War III. Everyone used to joke about it." A sort of melancholy took hold of Ray's tone. "And then it was real.  
  
"Israel, Iran or Iraq, whichever, Afghanistan, they were the first to go. These nukes weren't like the ones in Japan. It's been 70 years; they were a hell of a lot bigger. The entire Middle East was blown to shit. Millions of people died, then hundreds of millions more from the fallout.   
  
"This was in... I want to say January of 2014. I was seventeen at the time, but I won't bore you with details about myself. All _I_  knew was that people across the ocean were dying, and it wasn't something I should worry about. I worried, sure, everyone did, but the US wasn't involved."  
  
Ray let out a short, sarcastic laugh. "But you know us Americans; always need to stick our noses in where it doesn't belong. The President, being the fucktruck that he is, pointed his finger towards North Korea. Almost like he was itching to start a fight.   
  
"China, of course, defended Korea. England and France defended us. Russia eventually took Korea's side; their Prime Minister gave some bullshit excuse about unfairness. Soon enough everyone had their fingers on the trigger.  
  
"Took about, I dunno, eight months before the next nuke was launched. After that—well, after that, let's just say the population of the planet was cut entirely in half.  
  
"London, Paris, Washington, New York, Moscow, Hong Kong," Ray listed, and kept going. "Even though Canada wasn't involved, they were close enough to us, and enough of their people lived so close to the border, to be affected too. You've gotta understand; these nukes were _huge_. Like, _massive_. Nuclear storms and radiation killed what the blasts didn't." Ray had the air of a person who knew exactly what he was talking about. Michael found himself wondering what this had to do with them, although it was a bit of a shock to find out that most of the human race was dead.  
  
"Most of the northern US was decimated," Ray continued. "My parents had enough sense to move us away from New York before the worst of it started. But everyone I knew lived in Brooklyn. Everyone I knew died because of one man's utter _stupidity_." Ray's grip on the button tightened, and Michael feared he'd press it. The man certainly seemed angry enough to do so. But after calming down, Ray continued.   
  
"The government - whatever was left of it - moved the Capitol to Austin, Texas. DC was a crater; what else could they do? It was in Austin that they came up with the 'ingenious' idea to start a new branch." An eye roll accompanied this statement; apparently Ray wasn't one to agree with a government that had destroyed half the planet.   
  
"They codenamed this branch 'Rooster Teeth', to throw any foreign spies off its trail. After all, who was gonna look into something as ridiculous as Rooster Teeth?  
  
"They decided they wanted to study the human brain like no one had ever tried before. So we found five poor saps—" Ray spread his arms, grinning to the men in front of him. "—to volunteer."  
  
"Volunteer?" Jack interrupted. "Why would we do that?"  
  
"Oh, thanks for asking!" Ray was acting like they were on some sort of game show. "Apparently you'd all lost someone so near and dear to you—" Ray's voice took on a mocking tone. "—that all you wanted to do was forget. I had to be planted as control, of course, so I got to keep my past."  
  
"You both had wives," Ray began, nodded to Geoff and Ryan. "You had a daughter, and you had a son." Geoff, and then Ryan. " _You_  had a girlfriend—" Jack. "— _you_  were single, interestingly enough," Ray went on, pointing at Gavin. "At least from what you told us. But you'd lost your poor 'best mate' Dan when Afghanistan blew up and you seemed all too willing to forget.  
  
"And you." Ray turned to Michael with a wicked grin. "You—you had a loving _fiancée_. She was oh so ready to be married to you, but she died of brain cancer before that could happen. Radiation poisoning."  
  
Michael's brain tried to process this. Fiancée. _She_. So what—? He looked at Gavin, whose eyes never left the floorboards.   
  
"That—that can't be true," Michael spoke more for Gavin's benefit than for Ray's, but turned back to the younger man. "You're lying."  
  
Ray shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. But _I'm_  the only one who knows enough to lie, so believe me if you want to. You've got no one else to prove me wrong."  
  
"So who'd you lose?" Geoff growled. "Why are _you_  here?"  
  
"Oh, no one, of course, unless you'd count my childhood friends." Ray didn't seem at all sarcastic. "This job _does_  pay spectacularly well, though."  
  
Michael sat in stunned silence until he felt Gavin trembling next to him. Desire to protect overwhelmed everything else, and Michael placed a hand on Gavin's knee. "Hey, it'll be okay—"  
  
"How fucking _sweet_ ," Ray spat, noticing the exchange and rounding on them. "By the way, Gavin, no, it won't be okay."  
  
Gavin whimpered.   
  
"You know, I was here for you from day one," Ray went on, glaring daggers at Michael. "And you get drunk with this asshole _one time_ , and suddenly you're in love. You haven't even known him for a full twenty-four hours, and you had _sex_  with the guy!"  
  
"That is a _lie_ ," Michael hissed between clenched teeth. "I've known him for longer than that. I _remembered_ , I've seen his cat, I must have known him—"  
  
"I must say I was pretty surprised when bossman told me about that." For a second Michael thought Ray meant Geoff, until the younger man tapped his ear, where an earpiece was no doubt hidden. "Keeping secrets from the only people you can call friends? Pretty risky move. Good thing we've got people monitoring those cameras 24/7, so I knew about it the second it happened.   
  
"Oh, anyway, the cat. That didn't really happen." Ray was as casual as could be, like they were discussing the weather. _Nuclear winter with a 90% chance of death._  "Memory implants. Amazing things, really. We stuck some bullshit stories in there that would turn you against each other. Jack, you were supposed to have accidentally burned down Ryan's house. Geoff, with me, you'd--fuck, I don't know, I think you'd stolen money from me. It was supposed to be this big plot twist, because the three of you were supposed to figure out that you didn't originally mean any harm. Michael and Jack's were an accident, and Geoff'd only stolen from me to feed his family. Movie magic, this was.   
  
"We pretty much rebuilt your entire lives from scratch. It's fucking creepy how easy it is to manipulate people's brains when they're unconscious. First we wiped every one of your memories. Then we implanted our own, but so that it would take some digging to find them. I was to keep planting clues. Then the first partnership to figure it out would be recorded, and how fast. Your reactions to anything, too. Pretty much everything that's ever happened in here has been filed."  
  
"But _why_?" Michael had a basic understanding of what Ray was talking about, so the question wasn't really necessary. However, what he _did_  know was that Ray wouldn't be telling them this if he didn't intend to wipe their memories. Michael was buying time, hopefully to find an escape.   
  
" _Why_?" Ray sounded incredulous. "So we could understand the human brain, dipshit! I already—" Abruptly he cut himself off, although it was clear the act in itself was a huge effort. Ray let out a soft laugh. "Burns is telling me not to let my emotions take over. He's _also_  telling me that you're stalling. He's so much better at reading people than I am.   
  
"But, because I like you, I _will_  humour you."   
  
Ray's eyes flashed, clearly in response to something he was hearing. "Don't do that," he muttered.   
  
"Don't do what?" Ryan asked, obvious concern showing in his voice. Of course, he'd known Ray for a few days now, which in the grand scheme of things was a hell of a long time. There was no doubt in Michael's mind that Ryan, as well as Jack and Geoff, thought of Ray as a friend, just like Michael did. It just made things so much harder.   
  
"They've got their own switch, in the control room," Ray murmured, seeming somewhat subdued. "They said they're gonna press it if I don't get on with this." Then he snapped at no one, his voice taking on a bitter tone. "It doesn't _matter_ , why can't I just tell him—?" He stopped again.   
  
It was like listening to one end of a phone call. Michael couldn't imagine what this "Burns" was saying to Ray, but the younger man seemed to be extremely worked up about something.   
  
"Listen," Michael murmured to Gavin as Ray argued with nothing. He didn't look at Gavin and he tried to move his lips as little as possible, fully aware of the cameras pointed at him. "I'm gonna try and get that thing away from him, but you need to help me—"  
  
"Ah, ah, don't do that," Ray interrupted, apparently having been told about Michael's misbehaviour. "No plotting, 'kay? It'll be easier." There was pain, real pain, in his eyes as he looked at Michael. Like he didn't want to do this.   
  
"But Ray," Michael tried, hoping he could appeal to whatever side of Ray had kissed him. "I thought we were friends."  
  
Ray barked out a short, sarcastic laugh. " _Friends_? Sure, maybe, until _this_  disaster showed up." He gestured to Gavin, who still stared at the floor.   
  
"You enjoy those _fucking_  condoms?" Ray hissed, clearly deeply stung. "Those were _my_  idea, you know! I thought, maybe— Oh shut _up_ , Burns!"  
  
The effect of seeing Ray talk to himself and yell at nothing was like watching a madman. Ray didn't normally get worked up over anything, but now, like this, he seemed dangerously unstable, because of pressure, emotional trauma, or maybe he was just insane. Michael didn't know, but he saw an opportunity and stood, making to lunge for Ray.   
  
Almost immediately a look of panic crossed Ray's face and he stopped mid-scream to press the button he held. There was a sort of finality about it: _This is it, no turning back._  
  
The effect was instantaneous, and so utterly earth-shattering to Michael's reality that it was like he had hit a brick wall head-on. It brought him to his knees, palms pressed against the floorboards. Someone had taken a jackhammer to his skull, and now they were about to pulverize his brain until all his memories turned to dust.   
  
"Oh my God," Michael heard. "You fucking _lunatic_!" It look him half a second to realize the screams were coming out of _his_  mouth, as he looked up at Ray. Standing over his friend, Ray looked so shocked that he couldn't move.   
  
Already, Michael found it hard to remember who this man was. Gavin, though. _Gavin._  
  
Michael fought past the pain and flew to his feet. As he turned, he saw the three men on the couch with looks of hazy panic in their eyes, like they knew something was going horribly wrong, but their memories were fading faster than they had time to think about it.   
  
"Oh God," Michael gasped; the act of turning to face Gavin had hit him with a dizziness so overwhelming that he found himself on his knees again. Gavin stared down at him, looking as shocked as Ray had.   
  
"Michael." Gavin's voice was frantic as he thrust himself onto the hardwood in front of Michael. "Michael, what's happening?" Apparently he still remembered Michael's name; Michael himself could already not find anywhere in the depths of his mind the name of this beautiful creature. What he did know was that _he didn't want to forget_.  
  
"I love you," he managed, grasping at the hand of the man in front of him. Even as the words passed his lips he'd forgotten why he had said them in the first place, and the other man looked just as confused.   
  
"I love you too!" the man burst out in a surprisingly British accent. _Who is this guy?_  
  
 _Where am I? How did I get here...?_  
  
The shock was too much for his brain to handle. Fear, panic, and confusion enveloped his entire world, and he blacked out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really am sorry
> 
> if you have any questions feel free to ask heyo


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait and also for how crappily written this is... but yeah this is the epilogue! i've really loved writing this and thanks for all your support c:

The earpiece in Ray's ear had been a constant, nagging reminder of his own betrayal for the past week now. Burns was always in his ear; with a view of every camera in the apartment, he was Ray's eyes for what went on behind closed doors.   
  
When he'd taken the job, it was because there was nothing else. He had no family, no friends, because they'd either been blown to shit or died from radiation, or just packed up and left the country altogether. Ray had taken the job because he was alone, and he had long since lost all faith in humanity, a trait that had been key in his hiring. Burns had been looking for someone with little empathy, who wouldn't interfere too much with their "subjects". And when Ray had first stepped out of his room, after a full briefing on what to expect from these men and each of their back stories, he'd been surprised to find himself warming to Geoff, Jack, and Ryan. Those three had been dropped first without Ray. Each of them had woken up in some strange bathroom, soaked in their own blood, with nothing but a scrap of paper to call their own.   
  
But then Michael showed up. Michael Jones, who Ray had only read about in a file, who _questioned_  rather than _obeyed_ , who could get angry but then joke about it afterwards... who made Ray fall in love with him.   
  
The world outside this building was so different from what these five men thought it was. They were still in 2013, in a time of peace, before sirens and air-raids and nuclear wars. Their naïvety gave Ray some hope. They had no idea what it was like to live in fear that you wouldn't wake up.   
  
Until right now. Burns had been yelling in Ray's ear and, while he'd been distracted, Michael had tried to make a move. Startled, Ray had singlehandedly ended whatever lives his friends had made for themselves with the push of a button.   
  
"About fucking time," Burns murmured, but Ray barely heard. There was a buzzing noise all around him, and his eyes moved back and forth between the device in his hand and Michael on his hands and knees on the floor.   
  
"Oh my God," Michael moaned. His voice was pained and broken, and Ray didn't know what to do with himself. This was the man that Ray loved, and though he'd been shot down, Ray knew that no one deserved _anything_  like this.   
  
The last light in Ray's life died as Michael turned his face upwards. "You fucking _lunatic_!" Michael was screaming at him. Oh, no. No, no, no.   
  
 _I didn't mean it I didn't mean it I didn't—_  The words died on Ray's tongue as he only stood there, in complete shock. And as Michael communicated desperately with Gavin in their last few moments, Ray spun around wildly, looking for some way out. He _had_  to get out.   
  
He barely noticed the three men on the couch, but he did pick up on what Ryan was saying hurriedly, like he needed to get it out before he forgot it. Which was true.   
  
"No, no, guys, calm down, it'll be fine _—_ Geoff, no, just _relax_."  
  
Ray twisted around just in time to see Michael and Gavin's eyes roll back in their heads; as they slumped to the ground, the three men on the couch still looked panicked and frightened. The chemicals released hadn't made their way through their systems yet, because they weighed more than the two younger men. But not by much; soon they, too, would be unconscious.   
  
Jack and Ryan were looked seriously confused and dazed, but Geoff's stare was cold and unforgiving. It spoke words all on its own: _You did this. This was your fault. You've killed us._  It bored a hole straight through Ray's chest and it was so laced with both pain and fury that Ray couldn't hold it. He looked away just in time for Geoff's expression to change, a flit of panic crossing his face before he, too, fell unconscious, slumping where he sat.   
  
"Hey!" Ryan sounded surprised, but concerned at the same time. His instinct to help overrode his confusion for who he was even talking to, and where he was. "Are you okay?!"   
  
Ray cursed himself and everything about this job but still stole a quick glance back. Ryan was bent over Geoff, but he looked up at Jack, who only watched with wide eyes.   
  
"Don't just sit there!" Ryan cried desperately. "We have to... help..." Haziness crossed his eyes but he shook himself, growling like a dog. "We... No..." His eyes were lidding heavily and so were Jack's.   
  
As soon as the two men were unconscious, Burns was back in Ray's ear. "Finally. I thought those two would never pass out."  
  
Ray grit his teeth and bit back a retort. Here he was, standing over the unconscious forms of his _friends_  and Burns was making jokes. "So what's the plan," he half-hissed to everyone he knew was watching.   
  
" _Well_." As Burns spoke he sounded to be stretching. "I guess we'll just start over. Round two, if you will. But leave them as they are. I wonder how they'd react to waking up on the floor." There was a thoughtful tone to his voice, almost as if he was debating which stocks to bet on. Ray clenched his fists and then regretted it as Burnie no doubt noticed and spoke in a gentler tone.   
  
"Hey. You're okay. I'm sorry it had to be like this, but you can't let it get to you, all right?" Burns sighed and when he continued he sounded years older. "Come on, Ray. They were your friends. Michael might've been more." Here Ray bit back a retort and tried to ignore the shame burning under his cheeks. "I know that; I'm not completely heartless. But this is for the good of the country, and they agreed to all of this. You've gotta keep going."  
  
Deciding it was no use to argue, Ray relaxed his fists and calmed himself down quickly—a skill he'd picked up in high school. "You can count on me, sir."  
  
Burns' voice brightened considerably. "Good. Now I need you on clean up. They should be awake in fifteen minutes or so—Make sure there's nothing anywhere they can find. I'll let you know if you miss anything."   
  
And even though everything in Ray's body was telling him to walk away from this nightmare, he obeyed. He picked up everything, stepping around his friends' bodies carefully and avoided looking at them. He went thorough each of their rooms, putting every item back in its proper place. He wiped every Xbox's hard drive, emptied every trash can and left it in the passage for pickup, and made every bed to pristine perfection. Burnie was in his ear the whole time.   
  
Ray obeyed because of Michael. He obeyed because if he didn't, he'd never see Michael's eyes open again. Even if he wouldn't remember Ray, it would be worth it. He just wanted to hear that laugh again.   
  
Ray finished with five minutes to spare. Fresh guilt clawed at him as he laid eyes on his unconscious friends, but he ignored it as best he could. Burns' voice in his ear made it easier.   
  
"Good job. Empty their pockets. Then on your bed you should find five notes; plant these in their named pockets. And then we wait."   
  
Ray scrubbed a hand over his face, then cautiously approached the bodies on the floor. He just wanted this to be over. He just wanted to go back to joking with his friends and kicking their asses in Call of Duty. He did not want to be dipping his fingers in their pockets like some thief, even if he didn't find anything.   
  
Michael was the hardest. He still had his hand wrapped around Gavin's; the two could be sleeping, slumped against the front of the love seat. Jealously flared deep within Ray, topped only by an immeasurable guilt that made it feel like an iron vice had gripped his rib cage. He had no right to be touching either of them.   
  
"It's hard," Burnie supplied. "I know. But you've gotta _hurry_."  
  
Gritting his teeth, Ray searched the pockets. Empty, as he'd thought, but it still didn't make him feel any better.  
  
Heaving a sigh, Ray straightened his legs and headed towards his own room. As promised, he found six small sheets of paper, each bearing the same message they had when their owners had woken up for the first time.   
  
Ray had his own, the words scrawled in black ink:  
  
 _You are Ray Narvaez Jr._  
 _Born September 20, 1989._  
  
It stated his fake birth date as a precaution in case it was taken or looked at. He slipped this into his own pocket and, with one last sweep of every room in the apartment, shoved papers into each of his friends' pockets.   
  
And as Jack was starting to stir, Burns' voice echoed in Ray's ear. "Good job. Now do what you do best: Act."  
  


* * *

"Hey. Hey! Are you okay?"  
  
The words drilled their way into his skull and he frowned deeply, not wanting to open his eyes. Pain throbbed behind his brain and he knew that observing what was around him would help him remember where he was—because, for some reason, he had no idea.   
  
Panic gripped him and his eyes opened wide, bringing into focus a man in front of him, with black hair and glasses. He had no idea who this man was.   
  
As soon as his eyes opened they felt dry, but he forced himself to keep them open. He tried to speak but his tongue felt heavy. Shock, maybe, because finding out that you don't have a _fucking_  clue about where you are is a little surprising.   
  
"You okay?" Glasses repeated.   
  
Instead of answering, he finally looked to the left of him, at the sleeping or maybe unconscious man he seemed to be holding hands with. Instinctively he pulled his hand away. "Is _he_  okay?" he asked Glasses, examining the face of the man, whose wild hair and unshaven stubble gave him a first impression of _attractive as fuck_. Was that weird?  
  
"Dunno," Glasses was saying. "I just woke up here. Didn't know anything."   
  
He turned his head to study Glasses, whose words seemed forced somehow.   
  
"'M name's Ray," Glasses— _Ray_ —mumbled, avoiding the other man's eyes.   
  
"How'd you know your name?" he asked, bewildered. "Do you know mine?"  
  
Ray shook his head. "Never seen you before man, sorry. Check your pockets, though—Found my paper in there."  
  
 _Paper?_  With a million questions on his tongue he opened his mouth but Ray glanced to the side and then stood from where he was crouched.   
  
"I've gotta check on them, okay?" Ray gestured and with a start the other man realized that there were three people on the couch to his right, each in various stages of wakening. "Just try and remember what you can." With that Ray stepped away.   
  
He sat still for a few seconds, combing what little of his brain that he could for information. Nothing personal jumped out at him; he knew vaguely about the world around him, could recognize objects and words, but knew absolutely nothing about himself as a person.   
  
Movement to his left startled him, and he looked to see Bedhead stirring. Instinct to help rose inside of him.   
  
"Wot...?" Bedhead mumbled in a surprisingly British accent as he opened his eyes, which were a brilliant green. The eyes focused on the other man, clouded with confusion. "What's going on? Who are you?"  
  
"Oh—" Remembering what Ray had said, he patted through his pockets until he found a folded piece of paper. Hope and excitement flared in his chest, and he fumbled it open.   
  
 _You are Michael Jones._  
 _Born July 24, 1987._  
  
Well, that didn't help much, but he had a _name_ , and that was enough for him.   
  
"My name's Michael," he said to Bedhead, sticking out his right hand almost instinctively.   
  
Bedhead shook the hand offered, then smiled softly. "Nice to meet you. Michael."  
  
His ridiculous accent warped Michael's name, made it sound.... lovely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> might write a sequel, but i dunno what i'd do. i'll think about it uwu


End file.
